Toujours Pur
by Pieter250
Summary: Cordelia Potter never bought into the whole 'keeping your blood pure' ideology. Until one day life forced her to look in a whole new direction. Never before had the sentence 'blood is thicker than water' rung so true. - fem!Harry/Rhaegar Targaryen
1. Into the dragon pen

**Warning:** This is an 'a Song of Ice and Fire'-crossover, so keep in mind that this story may include, and may not be limited to: foul language, blood, gore, sexual situations, disembowelment, rape, character death, dismemberment, incest, defenestration and being burned alive.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

 **Author Note:** I am not a professional writer, so updates might be few and far between. Or I might just decide to stop writing altogether. I might come back later to rework this chapter. Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated! Let me know what you think about the story in the review section.

 **-x-**

Toujours Pur: Chapter One

 **-x-**

Cordelia Potter was despondently thinking how her life had come to this point. She was staring in the distance. Eyes aimed at the tent wall made in the most atrocious colours she could imagine – she was almost certain that Dumbledore had had some say in the choosing of said colours, but trying to teach that man something about fashion was a lost battle if she had ever seen one. At the moment there were only three other people in there with her.

The first, and probably the most important to her, was the lovely Fleur Delacour. To many people she was nothing but a bitchy, spoiled pretty face, but Cordelia knew better. Once you got passed the cold exterior there was a nice and caring person underneath. When her name had come out of the Goblet of Fire their relationship had begun with a more frigid start than a Scottish winter, but after passing each other a few times in the corridors of the castle they had grudgingly dropped their pride and got to know each other a bit better. They quickly found out that they had a lot more in common than one would imagine.

They were both astoundingly beautiful. Fleur was a veela, which is synonymous with being the envy of every female. Cordelia on the other hand was of an average height, had a slender frame that some would even describe as petite, a bosom that was not as far developed as she would have liked, long black hair that fell to her shoulder blades and the most enticing emerald green eyes anyone had seen.

Two beautiful females and unfortunately they both suffered from it. Honestly, having guys drooling over you might sound nice when used as a figure of speech, but when it happens in reality it was simply disgusting!

The two of them had the eyes of the public on them and wanted that, but for something that they had actually achieved, not some superficial beauty or the defeating of a Dark Lord when she wasn't even potty trained!

Cordelia looked at her friend who was starting to look a little green on the cheeks. Not exactly the most flattering colour, but she somehow managed to pull it off. She walked over to Fleur and softly murmured in her ear: "Calm down Fleur. You have trained for this task for weeks. What is a little dragon going to do against an angry veela?"

Fleur gave her a small smile and answered: "Stand still with its mouth open, because obviously am so impressing. I won't have to do anything more than walk up to it and grab my egg."

"Exactly!" Cordelia replied and gave her a cheesy smile.

Fleur shook her head in exasperation at her friend's antics and continued pacing in a circle like she had been doing before she had been interrupted. Though Cordelia saw with some satisfaction that her head was held higher and her step was more determined.

She then looked over her shoulder to assess the other two occupants of the tent. The closest was none other than Victor Krum. Bulgarian professional seeker and top student of Durmstrang Institute. By many regarded as the ideal boyfriend material, though Cordelia begged to disagree. His surly disposition somewhat ruined it for her, though she grudgingly had to admit that he was rather good looking.

The other person was none other than the official Hogwarts champion Cedric Diggory. As Huffelpuff's poster boy a lot of pressure was on his shoulders to make their house shine. Though at the moment he looked so pale that one would think his main priority was surviving the upcoming confrontation with a big, flying, fire breathing lizard. Fair enough, each could chose his own priorities.

Cordelia had found out about the fact that dragons would feature in the first task early on in the competition. Thank Morgana that Ginny had the state of mind to tell her that her brother Charlie was in the country for his work. If you knew that this particular job consisted of transferring exactly four dragons from the reservation to England, it wasn't too difficult to deduce that the only plausible destination was the Triwizard Tournament hosted at Hogwarts. Not too long after Cordelia was visited by Hermione sent on a covert mission by Ron to tell her a most confusing story to visit Hagrid.

Sheesh, thanks Ronald! Just say the keyword 'dragon' already!

After seeing the headmaster and –mistress of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons near the dragon pen she wasn't too worried about _their_ champions being fed to a ferocious beast without them having prior information. It made her curse being saddled with Albus fricking Dumbledore as her Headmaster though. Of course his sense of righteousness wouldn't allow him to help his students cheat the competition – more like death.

So it fell to her to warn Cedric that he might want to put on fireproof underwear for the first task. Her chivalry demanded that she did and she happily complied to her Gryffindor side. Of course as the Sorting Hat recognised she also had a Slytherin side, so she failed to mention it to Cedric until two days before the first task. Can't give the competition too much of an advantage, can you? Ah, Daphne would be so proud of her!

Daphne Greengrass was her best friend since last year. After the troll incident in first it seemed as if Ron, Hermione and herself would be a close group of friends at the very least for the rest of their scholastic career and probably for the rest of their lives after that. Alas, it couldn't have been further from the truth.

In their third year, Cordelia chose Care of Magical Creatures, Arithmancy and Ancient Runes as her electives. True, a rather theoretical set, but widely applicable on the world around her! In those electives she met dozens of new people, one of which was none other than the pretty pure-blooded princess Daphne Greengrass. She kept her distance from most people, but apparently she saw something in Cordelia and after being paired for a paper for Ancient Runes a strong friendship was founded on a shared passion for the subject, a wicked sense of humour, a large sack of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans and the usage of tons of sarcasm.

Of course Hermione was not pleased with being reduced to playing the second violin. Unfortunately that was only the beginning of their problems.

At Christmas Cordelia had received the most awesome present in the history of presents: a Firebolt. However before she had the chance to do anything more than look at it, Professor McGonagall had swept into the room and consequently confiscated the broom. Whose fault was that you might ask, Hermione Granger.

Don't get it wrong. Cordelia was very grateful to Hermione for looking out for her, because in all honesty in the bliss of owning the best racing broom money could buy, she had forgotten that receiving presents from Mr. No-name was not the most reliable source and as such she had thanked Hermione for that afterwards.

The problem was that Hermione didn't seem to understand that going behind peoples backs and snitch to teachers without so much as bringing up the subject to Cordelia was simply not done! The worst part was that Hermione never apologized for the transgression since in her eyes she was perfectly justified.

That kind of soured their relationship from that point forward. They still hung out together –hard not to when you share a dormitory, the common room and all your classes together-, but their friendship never got like it was before. In many ways she was replaced by Daphne and her friend Tracey Davis. Of course to this very day Hermione blamed their fallout entirely on Daphne.

Cordelia continued pondering over the meaning of her life, her part in the grand scheme of things and pretty much everything else, while gazing with unseeing eyes at the atrocious material of the tent.

 **-x-**

With a resounding bang the cannon went off for the fourth time, after Filch had once again lightened the fuse with a disturbingly pleased look on his face, signalling that it was finally time for Cordelia to face her destiny – well dragon that is.

After taking a deep breath –since it could quite possibly be one of her last- she tentatively stepped out of the opening of the tent. The cheering of the spectators assaulted her ears. Hundreds of people laughing, clapping and yelling to let their appreciation be known for the excitement they had gotten from the other three champions and in the hope that the fourth one would give them even more of a spectacle.

Cordelia was momentarily blinded by the light of the sun that shone straight in her eyes. Squeezing her green orbs shut, she quickly ran over to the nearest rock that offered a place of safety to hide. Huddling behind it she rubbed her eyes, trying to still her heart and focussing her mind on the competition.

After acclimatizing to her new surroundings, she stood up and looked around the slab of rock. There she saw a view that would have had lesser men – or woman- running.

'Of course, thanks to whomever entered me into this ruddy tournament I can do no such thing!' Cordelia sighed to herself in regret, before once more taking a peek around the rock she was hiding behind.

Large, wooden stands filled with scores of loud, cheering spectators, though she was rather dubious for some in regards to whom they were cheering for – Cordelia or the dragon; all of this surrounded a big open field, filled with man high rock formations. Right on the other side, opposite to the entrance of the tent, the safe haven she had just been forced to leave, there was the stand where the members of the esteemed jury would give points to those champions who managed to fulfil their task. Of course for them it was a question how well they performed during the task, for Cordelia on the other hand it was more than sufficient to simply complete it. Period.

In the middle of the palisaded enclosure was a shallow pit dug in the rock, filled with a few dragon eggs in a myriad of colours. Any other time, Cordelia would have taken her time admiring the pretty eggs, however today she did not as they lay in the shadow of a prime example of what each and every one of those eggs could grow into: a nesting dragon!

"If I must choose between this brute or little Norbert, I must admit I am rather partial to the latter," Cordelia uttered in slight frustration, while eyeing her fierce opponent. "Merlin tell me. What does Hagrid see in those beasts? They are big, ugly brutes and have tempers to match unfortunately. If the task was to steal a golden object, why not put us against a niffler? It is just as difficult, and a lot safer to boot."

The beast had a fifty feet long body the colour of a new moon sky, wings the size of a small airplane that it could have used to propel itself into the sky if not for the big, bulky chain attached to its neck collar and a tail adorned by vicious looking spikes that could tear a human apart in a matter of seconds – at least that is what she thought at least that could happen, she had no intention whatsoever to actually put that hypothesis to test.

Cordelia gulped once again upon seeing this horrifying view, trying to hydrate her throat that was suddenly painfully dry. She felt her heart stop for a moment when the dragon roared in her direction; showcasing the plethora of deadly fangs in its mouth. The large, white hot fire plume that was fired towards her previously peaceful abode did nothing to assuage her fears.

However as the Hungarian Horntail's big, yellow eyes glanced over her position, she heard a loud shout coming from the public in the stands. "Come on Cordy! You can do this. It is just a little dragon!"

Cordelia looked behind her in the direction where the encouragement came from. There she saw none other than her friends Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis sitting next to each other on the first row of the stands, along with some of her other friends and acquaintances. Tracey was hyperactively jumping on the benches in excitement and even Daphne, while normally the personification of grace and aloofness, was yelling loudlyin encouragement, making many of the bystanders wonder who she was and what she had done to Slytherin's unofficial Ice Queen.

Smirking at her friends' antics, she squared her shoulders, tightened her grip on her faithful holly wand and started the first step of her plan.

"Accio dungbombs," the witch yelled, while waving her wand in the direction of Fred and George. The two redheads, who sat a few rows behind Daphne and Tracey taking bets on the performance of the four champions though they had assured her that they would give her good odds, had gracefully agreed to carry them for her, since she was not allowed to bring anything into the arena aside from her wand and clothes.

A dozen dungbombs, securely wrapped in tight, black wrapping paper, flew from the satchel beside Fred –or was it George- straight into Cordelia's waiting, open arms; almost knocking her over in the process, which was not so surprising considering her lithe frame that was better suited for performing gravity defying stunts at breakneck speeds during quidditch games. She put the smelly devices down on the ground beside her, since she had no need of them in the immediate future.

Going over the next step of the plan in her head, she then summoned a few of the smaller rocks in her vicinity towards her.

Cordelia then put her three years of Transfiguration education to good use. She carefully merged some of the rocks together, while paying extra attention to changing their form to better suit what she had in mind. It was a precision job that demanded all of her concentration in order to achieve the desired result, but after a few short minutes, she had three rock formations lying before her with a rough humanoid shape and measuring approximately four feet each from top to bottom. Professor McGonagall would most assuredly not be giving her any extra points for good looks for this, but the size of her transfigurations was rather impressive.

Pleased with her progress so far, Cordelia stretched her arms above her head in an attempt to relieve the tension in the muscles of her arms and back, that she had gotten from the transfiguration.

She then continued her work by carefully etching runes into the stone creations, by using a nifty little spell Professor Babbling had taught her in one of their first classes last year. It was very important that all runes were shaped correctly. Any deformations could ruin their effects. It was equally as important to get the depth of the carvings just right: too deep and the workings of the magic would be all wonky, too shallow and the ancient magic wouldn't take hold on the stone.

One after the other, she put the runes on their place in the intricate design she had thought out more than a week earlier with the help of her friends. Animation on top of obedience in conjunction with life. Silence next to equality which in turn was joined with environment. Strength and endurance were placed in the remaining two corners of one of the arrays she had drawn.

'I am going to have to do something extra nice for Tracey next time I see her,' Cordelia thought to herself. 'Merlin knows I would never have been able to get this rune pattern to work all by myself. It's not my fault that there is such a ridiculous amount of runes to understand and memorize!'

"Well ladies and gentlemen. It seems that our youngest candidate has some sort of plan for this task," Ludo Bagman commentated to the crowd who were watching the last champion work in confusion. "Though I must admit that I am not entirely sure what that plan exactly is. Unless she plans to distract the dragon with some pretty sculptures. Can't see that working though, honestly." The smirks that Daphne and Tracey wore on their faces betrayed that they did in fact know what was going on in the arena, which was not surprising since they had helped Cordelia devise and train every single step of the plan she was currently executing.

Cordelia was so engrossed in her work that she only caught the last part of Ludo Bagmans commentary. Upon hearing it she pointedly ignored the commentator, whom she considered to be little more than a bumbling idiot, then again he had been a professional quidditch player there had been no need for him to grow up so far.

'Right, I have my stone golems in front of me. I have finished the necessary rune work and as far as I can ascertain it looks like I did a fine job on the carving. Now all I have to do is fire up my mindless minions and then nothing will be able to stop me from conquering the world!' Cordelia assessed her work in her mind. 'Alright, I am losing my line of thought. Moving on,' she called herself to work.

She carefully placed the tip of her phoenix feather wand on the centre of the intricate runic design of the construct closest to her and slowly pushed her magic through the runes into the inanimate stone. After finishing the job for the first one, she stepped aside and did the same for the other two. The magical constructs seemed to hum in the air around her, waiting to fulfil their purpose. Which meant they were ready to use.

"Animus," Cordelia pronounced, her wand steadfast aimed at the stone golems laying on the ground in front of her. Concentrating on her creations, she envisioned them standing up from their laying position . She could feel the animation charm she was using interact with her runic design, making it so much easier to control them. One after the other they slowly moved their limbs to push their heavy stone bodies in an upright position. Their movements becoming faster and more sure as Cordelia got the hang of controlling three animations at once.

Overjoyed that her creation worked, Cordelia did a funny little jig before she could stop herself.

Watching over her back, she saw Tracey doing a good attempt at squeezing Daphne to death in her exuberance at Cordy's success. It was not surprising that Tracey was so happy. After all she had been the one who had put the most work in the calculations for the design. When she finally released Daphne from the death trap that were her arms, Daphne gave her companion one of her patented death glares. The image was slightly ruined though, because one could detect a slight smile that tugged on the corner of the witch's lips.

'Now all I have left to do, is steal a dragon egg from underneath a dragon mother's nose,' Cordelia thought to herself. 'Piece of cake. If I hurry I might even be able to catch tea time without any delay.'

She walked towards the dung bombs she had been ignoring so far in favour of her other work and picked them up. She then continued to throw them over the rock towards the dragon that was peacefully resting there.

'Too bad I have to violate Hogwarts' own words for this task,' Cordelia mused 'Never tickle a sleeping dragon indeed.'

One after the other the bombs exploded with a loud resounding bang that came surprisingly close to the canon shot that had signalled the start of her turn, bathing the entire arena in a vibrant, poisonous green mist and permeating the air with an unbelievable stench. More than one cry of unease came from the captivated audience when the wind blew the smell towards them.

She then cast a disillusionment charm at her golems to make them even harder to detect in the mist of the dungbombs.

'Well they blend in well enough I guess,' Cordelia appraised as her constructs faded from view until only a faint outline gave their presence away. 'I will have to practice that a bit more in the future though; that spell is way too useful not to know. Who knows if I might get stuck somewhere without my father's invisibility cloak one day …'

She focussed her attention on the space behind the dragon, the furthest away from herself and her little minions, right before the jury. She then carefully cast a large scale glamour charm that gave the illusion of a large man coming from behind one of the rocks who started making his way towards the irritated dragon, with a wand held in his hand.

The Hungarian Horntail reeled up when it saw the figure approaching. Angry about the smell, the loud explosions and the mist that had invaded its nest it fixed its large, yellow, reptilian eyes on the new intruder. The dragon's eyes gleamed with a vicious light. They were proof of the ruthless, animal cunning that the animal possessed and which made him such an formidable foe

"Success!" Cordelia cheered, seeing the dragon distracted from what was happening around her. She pumped her fist in the air before sending her three golems towards the nest containing the elusive golden egg.

Carefully balancing her concentration between her advancing minions and the illusion, Cordelia continued her attack on the nest. She had to ensure that the illusionary person jumped out of the way of the dragon's fiery breath as realistically as possible, otherwise the dragon would catch on to the mummers trick that Cordelia was performing; all the while making him crisscross between the many rocks of the dragon pen in order to make everyone think the danger was coming out of that direction.

The dragon suddenly leapt forward towards her elusive adversary, opening its wings as if to crush her foe, leaving her nest momentarily unguarded. This gave Cordelia the perfect opening to make the closest golem take the last few steps towards her price.

'Just a few more,' Cordy encouraged the little guy as he went in a dead run, rapidly advancing towards his target. The fearless golem picked up the egg and ran just as quickly as before towards its creator, who was eagerly anticipating their return; his brothers flanking him to ensure that _he_ at least would befall no harm and deliver his package.

Cordelia literally beamed from happiness and relief as they approached her in formation. She could hear the crowd cheer in encouragement as they watched her plans come to fruition at last. She could hear the commentary of Ludo Bagman run through the enclosure: "And she did it, people! Our youngest champion took her egg without attaining any bodily harm whatsoever and in a very sharp time as will if I may say."

"Did you see that Professor Dumbledore," Bagman asked the ancient Hogwarts Headmaster. "I almost missed the action myself. I think I blinked. Of course, using those dungbombs to prevent the dragon from using its sensitive nose to smell her coming was a rather brilliant plan. Simple but effective."

Cordelia thought she could even hear parts of her friends' congratulations through all the noise. But she ignored it all in favour of taking possession of her prize when the golem with the egg reached her, the proof that she had achieved her goal: she had tricked a nesting dragon, stolen one of its eggs from right under its nose and she had lived to tell the tale.

With the egg safely tucked under her arm, she turned around walked towards the exit, ready to drop in the nearest couch and take a well-deserved nap for a day or two.

As she was ready to round up and leave the arena, Cordelia didn't see the cunning creatures' eyes narrow in suspicion when it had pounced on nothing but thin air, she didn't realize when it looked back towards the nest it had left unguarded and found one of its eggs missing, when it noticed someone walk away with her precious egg, that she would protect against all odds.

Cordelia was almost at the entrance of the tent and was oblivious to all but the feeling that it was finally over. She did hear the crowd's loud and rambunctious cheer turn into a sudden and unanimous gasp of terror, though.

She quickly looked back over her shoulder, turning slightly around to get a better view and saw the large, open maw coming towards her. She saw the fire that lighted up deep in the throat of the furious dragon and that suddenly travelled outwards faster than she could even begin to comprehend.

As the arena was flooded by terrified cries of panic, all she could feel was the heath of the dragon's fiery breath and the burning pain where the white hot flames touched her, eating away all in their path.

All she could see was the blazing inferno that consumed her. Then all she could see became darkness.


	2. What the hell happened?

**Warning:** This is an 'a Song of Ice and Fire'-crossover, so keep in mind that this story may include, but may not be limited to: foul language, blood, gore, sexual situations, disembowelment, rape, character death, dismemberment, incest, defenestration and being burned alive.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

 **Author Note:** I am not a professional writer, so updates might be few and far between. I might even decide to just stop writing altogether. Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated! Let me know what you think about the story in the review section.

 **-x-**

Chapter Two: What the hell happened?

 **-x-**

Cordelia groaned as she picked herself up from a hard surface. Something had gone terribly wrong during her first task of the triwizard tournament. In her happiness of completing her task, she had allowed her attention to waver and the consequences had been dire. She still remembered how the fire had come her way, how it had impacted on her clothes, burning them away. Surprisingly though she had felt some sort of reaction inside her when the dragon's fire touched her skin. As if some integral part of her had been changed irrevocably.

'It doesn't matter though at the moment. First I need to get a grip on what in Merlin's name is happening,' the confused witch thought.

Finally, Cordelia managed to get onto her feet, though her legs were still somewhat shaky from the shock from what had happened. Never mind the fact that she could still feel the heat and the pain coming from the burns that were all over her body, though she was strangely detached from it. She had no doubt that if that hadn't been the case she would have lost consciousness right away, as had happened before in the dragon pen.

The young woman looked around herself, searching for anything that could tell her where she was. That was easier said than done though, as the world around her was so dark that initially she hadn't even noticed that her eyes were open. To make matters worse there seemed to be some kind of dark fog flowing around in lazy patterns.

Cordelia tentatively put a foot forward and when she caught something solid, she repeated the action with her other foot; slowly moving forward in what she hoped was the way out of this infernal darkness.

The strange environment she found herself in was playing tricks on her mind. One moment she could see next to nothing. However after taking a few tentative steps, careful not to fall, she had the impression that light seemed to be increasingly more present. Only to find herself once again in a pitch black world after blinking her eyes.

She didn't know how long she was walking. There was nothing that stayed the same. No way to tell how far her feet had carried her. The only things to focus on were the patterns the strange mist formed. She would have sworn that she could actually hear noise echo from within the banks of mist whenever they formed into a recognizable shape. Whether it was the sound of war, the image of a child crying, a mother begging her brother to take care of her new-born son, a raspy voice shouting to burn the world, … she experienced it all and before she could even start to comprehend what she had seen or heard, it had disappeared into the black madness that was this place, leaving her wondering if what she had seen was real or simply a delusion.

While walking aimlessly amidst the madness of the world, in what she thought was some semblance of a straight line, she noticed that her gamble finally seemed to be paying off. Slowly, but surely the darkness pulled back, until a grey void was all that remained. The dark mist had become denser and was now actively swirling in her direct vicinity. All of a sudden the moving swirls concentrated in certain positions, forming a crude representation of a grey tinted world.

She suddenly found herself in a large room with two rows of narrow, ornately carved pillars, running parallel with the walls, supporting the high roof. The walls were adorned by masterly made glass-in-lead windows and what appeared to be dragon skulls. At the end of the room opposite the main entrance was a big throne, which appeared to be made from a heap of ancient weapons. Swords that were black from age and disuse, but still looked sharp and gave the construction a menacing aura. The hall was filled with people dressed in fine clothes: the women in dresses of smooth silk and the men in breeches and tunics. They all stood in a semi-circle, as if they needed the comfort of having peers alongside with them, afraid of being singled out in such a dangerous environment, keeping the centre of the room clear.

Cordelia was interrupted from her observations when a hoarse voice shouted. "Bring in the prisoners." Just moments after the command was given, it was promptly executed by a knight in a white cloak, who left the room through the main door, followed by a couple of guards dressed in gold. All men had grim looks on their faces, as if they wanted to do anything but obey.

She searched for the source of the command and didn't have to look far before she found it was the man sitting on the throne on the raised dais in front of the room. Once upon a time the man could have been described as handsome and to a certain degree he still managed to pull people in, however his prime days were long over. His silvery white hair was too long, matted with filth and knitted by lack of care. He sat slumped back in the strange chair as if he lacked the strength to keep himself upright. His hands, topped by long, yellow nails, gripped the sharp swords tightly, resulting in tiny cuts and scratches all over his hands and arms. The most memorable part of his appearance were the eyes, which sat slightly sunken in the man's face. They were a deep shade of violet that she hadn't seen before. What scared her was the fact that they were shone with madness.

When the white cloaked knight returned, the guards escorting two prisoners in tow, the king –or so she assumed, because he wore a crown- straightened and bit out: "You have come here to betray you King and your Prince, have you not? Now I find you guilty of treason. There is only one punishment for that. Death!"

"Please your Grace, let me prove to you that we show you no ill will. My hot-headed son overreacted on the situation at hand. Allow me to fight in a trial in front of the gods!" The older man begged in desperation, as he kneeled before the king, while the other man who looked like a younger version of the former glared angrily at everyone in his vicinity.

Upon hearing this, request the King looked pensive for a moment before agreeing with a wicked grin tugging on his lips. "Very well. Someone get Lord Stark's weapons and armour. He will fight now."

The crowd in the hall murmured upon hearing this and Cordelia watched on in getting more confused every second. The pace of the memory –or whatever this might be- suddenly went forward in shocks. Before Cordelia knew it, she was looking at the old Lord Stark screaming in agony as a poisonous green fire burned around him, melting the ornate armour from his body alongside his flesh.

The elderly Lord's son and heir was faring not much better. The young man was strangling himself in a desperate attempt to reach his father and save him from such fate. Slowly his face got redder as her ran out of breath, only accentuated by the light of the eerie flames dancing over his face.

Cordelia had tried to interfere, but whenever she reached her hands in an attempt to stop them, to do something, anything, the world around her flickered and her helping hands touched nothing but black, immaterial smoke.

She could watch no longer at the atrocities happening in front of her. To make matters even worse, the burning pain that she had been able to ignore so far was flaring up again, making it impossible for her to simply stand around. She felt as if she was once again burning alive!

Cordelia turned around and ran into the cloudy world around her, hoping against better reason to find something to help her relieve her pain.

She had barely finished the thought, when she heard a low chuckle behind her. Taking her chance, the distraught witch looked back and what she saw there in the dark shadows scared her more than she would care to admit. It was a tall, white creature that exuded an aura of cold and foreboding. It was not the kind of cold, she was looking for however. This would not give her relief from her pain. This cold promised death. Right before Cordelia turned around to get as far away from this abomination as she could, she caught his ice blue eye. Where the Mad King's eyes had burned in madness and sadistic pleasure in the pain he brought unto his prisoners, this creature's eyes were empty. Void of any emotion. They were nothing more than a silent promise that everything would end.

In her haste to run from the nightmares she was trying to leave behind, sprinting in reckless abandon because of the burning pain emanating from all over her sore body, Cordelia didn't pay sufficient attention to her surroundings. She tripped and fell on the ground. Hard. She felt herself sinking into the floor that had been solid just moments ago, before falling through the darkness. She picked herself up from the hard stone floor and Cordelia found herself standing in a long stone corridor, decorated by paintings and tapestries depicting battlefields where the heroes of old rode their dragons into battle. As she walked forward, she could hear the sounds of battle raging outside. The characteristic clangs of a sword meeting another, the wheezing of arrows leaving the bowstring at high speed, the anguished cries of soldiers dying in the field, caught by surprise, unable to form a defensive line, dying one after the other with no comrades to guard their back.

Cordelia tried to ignore the horrible noises coming from every direction, but was doomed to fail. Nothing could stop the sound as it rang inevitably in her ears. The only direction she could wander, was forward. She was absolutely helpless in what was happening around her. She had not even a semblance of control anymore.

As she continued walking through the corridor, she didn't fail to notice that the noises from outside became softer, the further she got, before they eventually died out entirely. More importantly to her, however was the fact that the terrible burning pain she had been experiencing was finally receding. Her skin still felt irritated, but it had become far more bearable as she went on, feeling almost pleasantly cool.

At the end of the corridor was a wooden door. Cordelia assumed she had to enter that one. As she approached it, she was overwhelmed by a feeling of dread and desperation. When she extended her hand in order to open the door a pained yell came through the door. "No! Not little Egg. Please, I beg you! Take me instead, but let him go."

By the end of the sentence the desperate, female voice was little more than a desperate sobbing.

As Cordelia swung open the door she heard a loud crunching noise. When the door was completely open, she could finally see what lay behind it. It was a large room, obviously a bedroom considering the large four poster bed that took a central place in the design. To the side was a moderate bookshelf filled with large tomes, the likes Hermione found in abundance in Hogwarts' library and considered to be 'light reading'. There was a boudoir against the wall, a beautiful gown on display as it was displayed on the dressing screen that was positioned next to the balcony that gave a breath-taking view of the city outside.

It was a beautiful room to live in, but Cordelia payed it no thought, as her eyes had automatically fixed themselves on the scene that played before her. Her mind paying no heed to anything but the bloody caricature of a young child laying on the floor in a pool of dark red blood. Its small head smashed together on the wall as was proven by the gruesome, wet paint that was slowly dripping on the floor.

Sick in her stomach Cordelia looked up when she heard the sound of fabric being torn apart. The woman she had heard before was on her knees, sobbing, trying to protect her modesty by clamping the remnants of her torn dress to her chest that was covered by little more than a thin shift. The woman had an odd sort of beauty, Cordelia noticed. She was not tall, nor specifically endowed in the chest area -nor was she curvaceous in any other way for that matter-, but her face had a kindness in it that made her entire appearance shine.

Cordelia stood frozen on the spot as a monster of a man walked slowly towards the helpless woman, his hands coated in a dark red liquid. When the screams started she felt sick and wanted to be anywhere but here, where tragedies were happening without her being able to interfere.

As Cordelia made her desperate plea, the never-ending darkness, suddenly made place for a piercing light. The fourth triwizard champion had finally opened her eyes.

 **-x-**

Poppy Pomfrey – or rather Madame Pomfrey as she was used to be called here at Hogwarts – was vast asleep in her cosy room situated right next to the infirmary, when she was rudely awakened by a sharp poke in the ribcage with what felt like a long stick. When she blearily opened her warm brow coloured eyes, she was met with the sight of one of the Hogwarts staff elves, clothed in a tidy, white pillow case, standing right next to her on the bed. Its big blue eyes were looking at her from mere inches away, while its large nose practically touched her own. He was obviously the culprit who had roused her from her sleep, since he had a stretched finger at the ready to poke her again – even harder this time – if she didn't get up soon enough.

Sighing she slowly pushed herself up from her lying position. She then tried to wrap her mind around the cause of her rather painful awakening, but since her sleep addled mind still had problems catching on after the exhausting day she had lived, she just asked the nervous elf in front of her. "Why did you wake me up Blumy? And why did you have to do it in such a way? That hurts you know."

The tiny house elf who had jumped back seeing his mistress rise from her comfortable, warm bed, took his long, pointy ears in his gnarly hands and twisted them in a nervous gesture. At hearing the complaint directed his way he quickly scrambled to explain his actions.

"Blumy being most sorry, Miss Poppy, but mistress had asked Blumy to look after her burned Miss Cordy and tell her immediately if something changed. And it did! Miss Cordy has been moving around in her bed for a few minutes, but now she has also started to whimper like – like she is in pain! Blumy not knowing what to do,' the elf urged her into action.

Upon hearing this the witch jumped into action: throwing her legs out of the bed, picking up her trusted maple wand and ran to her patient who had been on the verge of death before she treated her, in a sprint that belied her age. The elf looked at his mistress' retreating back, while he was left behind, gobsmacked at what had just occurred.

Not many students remembered it anymore, but Madame Pomfrey had quite the career behind her. She had worked at Saint-Mungo's hospital for many years as the responsible of her own ward in the accidental spell fire department. However after all her years on the job, which consisted of not only the las war against You-Know-Who, but also the war against Grindelwald, when she was a good deal younger and had just begun as trainee, she had decided to retire from the busy hospital and take up the position as nurse at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Which is why she was storming into her own infirmary at the moment, like a summer storm in the tropics, something she would have given quite the tongue-lashing for if it had been anyone but her. However since there was only one patient at the moment and she couldn't really scold herself, she decided to just let the matter drop.

Madame Pomfrey stopped before the bed of none other than Cordelia Potter, by far the most frequent visitor of her infirmary. "That girl occupies that bed so often I should just put a plate with her name on it permanently," she chucked her tongue, while observing her patient. "Merlin knows she needs it with all her dangerous antics."

She didn't need more than a passing glance to see that Blumy had been more than justified in bringing Cordelia's worsening condition to her attention even if it had been at such an inopportune hour of the day. The poor girl was trashing around in her bed, rolling the blankets around her slender body in the process, turning them into a cocoon. Every so often one could hear her murmur in distress before a soft whimper of pain escaped her lips.

A quick hand on Cordelia's forehead told her all she needed to know and a few intricate waves with her wand over her patient's body gave her confirmation: her patient was burning up from a serious fever.

Madame Pomfrey wasted no time and quickly set to work, treating her patient like she had done too many times before; first casting some subtle cooling charms on her in order to keep her body temperature down and then trying to pry her uncooperative mouth open in order to get some pain relief potions in her body.

As she was doing this, her mind wandered to the tragic events that had brought them to being in the dark infirmary in the middle of the night.

 _ **flashback**_

Madame Pomfrey just put the finishing touches on sealing a nasty looking scab on the arm of the Beauxbaton's champion, Fleur Delacour. The pretty, young woman had performed rather admirable while taking on her dragon, in the nurse's own opinion, but had misjudged the fact that sleeping dragons do in fact snore when they are asleep and that they may accidentally spew fire in the process. The consequences weren't too bad though: Fleur's clothes were a bit singed at the bottom, but otherwise she was fine.

"There you go, my dear. As good as new," she reassured the woman who had been fidgeting while receiving her treatment.

Fleur quickly stood up and gave her thanks. "Merci Madame," she then proceeded by making herself scarce in a matter of seconds. Before Madame Pomfrey could say anything else, she had slipped out of the tent in order to watch her friend's performance in her upcoming task.

Madame Pomfrey chuckled softly and smiled at her quick retreat indulgently. She knew she could be overbearing at times when it came to treating a wounded person, even going as far as threatening them into their hospital beds at wand point at times and Fleur, high on adrenaline, had been planning to slip out of the tent to watch the other champions without giving her as much as a chance to check her over. Unacceptable of course!

'Ah, she is still young. She will learn,' the healer thought to herself. 'Well, since Mister Diggory has been treated already and Mister Krum managed to somehow fulfil his task without attaining any injuries, I am momentarily out of work. So that means I can safely go outside to see the next task,' she reasoned to herself. 'Cordelia is the last champion and she should be starting any moment now. Knowing that girl, she will be able to find herself a way to get hurt in some way, shape or form and it is easier to treat injuries if you know exactly what happened –' Right at that moment the canon shot was fired, making the old witch jump in fright and then shoot a heated glare in the direction of the offending noise.

Initially Madame Pomfrey was rather impressed with the girl's choice of tactic. If she was entirely honest with herself, she had to admit that she had expected the brave Gryffindor to do something idiotically dangerous and needlessly risky to complete her task, like flying around the dragon on that infernal Firebolt of hers. But instead she chose a very safe option that spoke of a good amount of cunning and preparation.

'That is most unlike her. Normally she tends to just charge into things,' Madame Pomfrey thought flabbergasted at this most uncharacteristic behaviour. 'I wonder what hap- Ah. Her friends is what happened,' she smiled when she noticed Tracey Davis and Daphne Greengrass cheering in the stands.

She had actually had a small argument over Cordelia's new friends with the head of Gryffindor House, Professor McGonagall, who was a bit miffed, but mostly saddened to see her 'Golden Trio' fall apart during third year and even more so this year with young Ronald's most untasteful comments on Cordelia's selection as a champion a few weeks earlier.

She on the other hand was most delighted with this new evolvement. Not because she took pleasure in old friendships fading away and eventually even falling apart entirely, but because Cordelia was too brash -in her own modest opinion- and having some Slytherin friends could instil some self-preservation into the girl and force her to use those brains in her head a bit more. Maybe it could even keep her out of the hospital wing for once, though the old nurse was not very hopeful on that matter.

'Of course I may be a tiny bit biased on the matter though,' Madame Pomfrey silently admitted. 'Slytherin was my own house after all when I was a student at Hogwarts.'

As Cordelia's plan unfolded before her eyes and even came to fruition the witch got the foolish hope that perhaps, just perhaps, Cordelia would be able to walk away from this adventure unscathed for once and that the young witch wouldn't have to spend time in the infirmary, while she had to lap her up once more.

This silent hope was soon crushed though as Madame Pomfrey saw the unthinkable happen: the sweet girl she had conversed with so many times while she was bedridden under her care, got caught in a flare of white hot fire, to be incinerated to nothing more than dust and ashes.

As the crowd started to panic, a deafening cry came from a very distraught Hagrid, who had been watching his young friend perform. "No! Not Cordy,' he yelled as he jumped into the dragon pen, hitting the ground with a resounding thud. Madame Pomfrey watched in shock and disbelief as Hagrid balled his enormous hands into fists, pulled back his arm and, his face distorted by rage, continued to punch the dragon in the side of its head, knocking a tooth out in the process – or so many people would later swear.

This was sufficient distraction for the dragon to stop his ongoing incineration of Cordelia and focus his attention on Hagrid instead, who suddenly looked very small in comparison indeed. Fortunately though, further drama could be stopped from occurring, since this gave ample opportunity to the ancient Headmaster, his customary twinkle in the eyes absent, to cast a powerful stunner at the black dragon, who was getting increasingly irritated by all the happenings – couldn't they just leave her eggs alone! The stunner was far from enough to pierce the Hungarian Horntail's thick, magic resistant hide entirely, though it did make its eyes go unfocused for a few seconds.

Upon seeing the blinding red stunner, the dragon handlers shot into action, opening a veritable barrage on the dragon's flank, knocking the large beast out. It collapsed on its side with a crashing sound that echoed through the arena, catching the attention of all present.

A crying Hagrid payed the beast's large, unconscious body no heed, instead looking through his tears at Cordelia's supposed place of demise. He didn't see it at first, but when soft exclamations of 'Merlin's beard' continued to be heard all around the stands, picking up in volume like an autumn wind, he focussed on the scene before him.

"Tha' can't be," he murmured in disbelief, seeing a form laying on the ground writhing in the dust, weakly groaning in pain. He took some shaky steps closer. Upon closer inspection he found it was indeed Cordelia. Her clothes were burned away, she was covered head to toe in sooth, her normally cream coloured skin was now a violent red colour in some places and completely burned away in others, but she was still very noticeably Cordelia; she was still very much alive! He quickly picked her up, mindful to not aggravate her already serious and plentiful injuries, cradling her to his broad chest and marched her to the healer's tent, away from the many staring eyes, belonging to the buzzing crowd, who were all speculating on what they had seen and Cordelia's surprising survival.

Madame Pomfrey, pulling herself together after seeing Hagrid coming her way, quickly ushered them inside and without wasting time, started treating the girl who seemed doomed to be her patient, as soon as soon as the friendly half-giant had put the badly injured girl down in a bed. She quickly gave her patient a dose of dreamless sleep to ensure she didn't have to suffer the pain any longer.

Cordelia Potter should have been reduced to nothing but ash, but had somehow once again managed to do the unthinkable, just as she had done fourteen years ago when she had survived the killing curse, something nobody had been able to do before, or after for that matter. It seemed as if the achieving the impossible could be expected from her.

Her body was still perfectly intact, though her hair seemed to be scorched at the tips and was covered in filth, making it even blacker than it normally was. Her skin looked like the shell of a boiled lobster - even the Weasleys couldn't hope to reach this vibrant shade of red at the height of one of their infamous tempers. Furthermore her body was covered in cuts and blistering wounds caused by the dragon's fire.

Pushing any thoughts on Cordelia's impossible continued existence aside, Madame Pomfrey steeled her shoulders and started treating the patient who had managed to worm herself into her heart, as she had done so many times before. "Blumy! Essence of dittany. And lots of it," she started ordering. "And while you are at it: bring me more of that burn-crème I have been using for Mister Diggory and some hydrating gel."

"Move it! No time to waste," she added as an afterthought. Her trusted aid needed no more encouragement and scurried away to get the needed potions and salves.

 _ **flashback**_

When she was done cooling her patient down from her midnight fever, to a sufficient degree and had managed to make her drink a whole bottle of fever-relieving potion, she was surprised to see her patient awake.

Cordelia had slightly opened her heavily lidded eyes and saw the nurse tending to her injuries. Still distraught from what she had seen and experienced in the shadowy depths of her own mind, she brought out slowly. "I must change it. I must." After taking a moment to swallow with some difficulty, she continued in a raspy voice. "I can do it, right?"

The old nurse, not really knowing what Cordelia was alluding to, tried to soothe her worries. "Of course dear. You will be able to change it, but only after you have had a good night sleep. You are of no use to anyone if you don't take the time first to heal." She then offered Cordelia another vial of dreamless sleep, which her patient obediently drank, falling asleep soon after. Her face went calm and a small smile even managed to tug at her lips.

"Sleep my sweet girl. I will make sure you get well. You just sleep," Madame Pomfrey said softly in the silent infirmary, while straightening the wrinkles from Cordelia's blankets.

 **-x-**

This time Cordelia didn't have to relive the nightmares of what would have happened. This time, she was high above the sea, soaring through the sky on the back of a magnificent, grey dragon. The sea was calm, as if it had understood that for once it weren't the raving streams or the blowing wind that were the most dangerous thing around. For now that place was taken by the apex predator that was Cordelia's ride.

The dragon flew over the jagged rocks that pierced the surface of the water, over the remnants of the ships that had failed to circumvent the rock formations and obstacles that were present everywhere under the sea.

The dragon flew over the earth that was slowly, but surely reforming itself, over the sea where boiling water reached the surface, making it a death pool, over the poisonous clouds that drifted lazily over the land and water, sneaking up on any trespasser, taking them inevitably by surprise, lulling them into a sleep that none had ever awake from.

At the horizon there were islands illuminated by red, hot rock; while the waning sun made the sky light up thousands of colours, ranging from the deepest blue, over the most exotic orange, to a deep, blood red, reminding the world of the tragedy that had occurred at this exact same place.

Slowly the dragon and its rider reached their destination: once a great city; a city filled with dozens- nay hundreds of towers and constructs that the world could not hope to replicate, as it overshadowed all their imitations in greatness, beauty and skill. Once the head of a great empire that had reached without fail in all the directions the wind blows.

But no more, the great towers from where in past times the lords of the freehold had directed the wheel of time were now empty, most broken and destroyed when the fourteen sister shook the land and bathed everything in their fire. Between the rubble of the remnants of the city lay thousands of charred bodies and bones. Irrespective of their station death had come for all of them. Now they lay next to each other, keeping each other company in death.

The bodies of the mighty dragons were strewn around. They had dropped where they had been as they were poisoned by the very same air that had made them the top predators of the world.

The city was nothing but an empty shell, a gruesome painting to remind the world of the curse that rested on the land for all this time.

But the wind was changing. The dragon quickened its pace and made to leave the city behind itself. Perhaps the change would not occur right here or right now, but she would come inevitably, and when she did greatness would once again be theirs.

And so all was once again quiet. Though a gentle breeze remained behind, ever so softly caressing the ruins, cleaning away the dust of time. A last time the darkness overcame Cordelia who was still perked on the dragon's broad, scaly back, taking her away from the visions from what the future may bring. Finally she fell into a restful slumber and she dreamt of a handsome boy with silver hair and mesmerizing violet eyes, who sung to her about what the future may bring.

 **-x-**

Cordelia heard voices softly murmuring around her. Annoyed at the unwelcome interruption of her well-deserved sleep and the nice dream she had been having –and was quickly losing track of-, she turned slightly more on her side, pulling her bed covers to her chin in a valid attempt to disappear in them by burying her face in the soft material of her fluffy pillow, trying to ignore everything around her and go back to her dream.

"Daffy, did she just move?" A soft voice she vaguely recognised, but couldn't quite put her finger on who it belonged to exactly, asked in delight. Without waiting on a reply the voice continued. "Cordelia are you awake?"

Cordelia decided to take a quick survey of who was with her. She could then make an educated decision on whether to ignore them and snooze off again or … well, tell them off on waking her and then go back to sleep all the same.

She slowly opened one of her bleary eyes and was promptly blinded by the glaring, white light from whichever place she was in at the moment, shining straight into her eye. Cringing slightly at the most unwelcome experience this early in the morning, she decided to get her answers in a different way and slowly managed to get out. "Wha-zzer?"

'Hmm, that could have come out better,' she thought hoping that the annoying voices had understood her despite her rather hoarse and sleep riddle voice.

An amused voice rang through the infirmary. "Eloquent as ever Cordy, but you should really get up if you can manage. You have been asleep for three days now, letting the potions work their magic. I know a girl needs her beauty sleep, but you are really taking it to a whole new level. Some might even go as far and say you are overdoing it," the voice, she now recognised as being Daphne's, teased her lightly with mirth in her voice, obviously happy about something.

'Well, the other voice must be Tracey's if Daphne is here,' Cordelia finally decided after trying to get a hold on what was happening. Since Daphne and Tracey were with her, she decided she might as well humour them and wake up. Releasing a deep sigh at what she perceived as a great injustice, she once again forced her eyes open, before groaning slightly at the light that was still abundantly present. Blinking rapidly, trying to adjust to the new level of brightness, she asked her friends: "So, why exactly are you sitting here watching me sleep?"

"Because we were afraid you had died during that horrendous task of course!" Tracey vehemently exclaimed in reply.

This got Cordelia's attention and she quickly looked up at Tracey who was still looking scared at what could have happened. She then looked towards Daphne who was sat beside Tracey. Daphne was sitting stoically on the uncomfortable chair. Her back was rigid and her face more aloof than Cordelia had ever seen it. Her eyes were downcast when she murmured. "What happened to you in that arena scared us Cordy. We didn't know if you had survived it somehow or not."

Feeling slightly guilty at her insensitive behaviour, Cordelia pushed herself into an upright position, resting her back against her pillow. She took in the surroundings she had become way too comfortable with for her own taste. She was lying in the crispy clean hospital bed that might as well be her private spot, considering how often she had use of it. On the bedside table next to her, she saw a bottle of water, a glass and a couple of empty potion vials that looked positively gross considering the residue of the potion still left in them. To her other side were Daphne and Tracey, who still looked a bit shaken from the fear and stress of her injuries, but who were quickly warming up again seeing her alive and breathing, going off on the big, toothy grin that was slowly forming on Tracey's face. The rest of her surroundings were mostly hidden from her view by the large, darkish green screen that was placed around her bed in order to give her and her visitors some privacy during her stay at the infirmary.

"Tracey, why don't you go and get Madame Pomfrey. She has ordered us to inform her right away if Cordy woke up,' Daphne told her friend, while Cordelia was busy looking around.

"Why me? Why can't you go and do it?" Tracey shot back with what looked suspiciously like a pout.

"Because you were the one who had the amazing idea to give the nurse a solemn promise to let everything drop and fetch her right away should Cordelia awake, when we came in. I could do it, but I wouldn't be a very good friend if I allowed you to break you word so quickly," Daphne reasoned with a sly smile on her face.

Tracey looked a bit put out that she had been outsmarted and would have to leave them, but she quickly straightened her back with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "Madame Pomfrey! Cordelia is awake. If you could come over and have a look at her so we can leave this place that would be smashing!" She yelled over her shoulder in the direction of the healer's office, at a volume that was better suited for quidditch matches than a polite conversation in an infirmary.

Daphne quickly put her hand over Tracey's mouth, hoping to keep her quiet at last. They were already in trouble because of her noise. There was no need to make it even worse! She glared at her friend who was sporting a smug grin. "What was that all about! Do you want us to get thrown out like Weasley and Granger?" Daphne hissed in annoyance.

Before Cordelia got the chance to ask what had happened to her Gryffindor friends, she noticed the old nurse storming in their direction like a bull who had seen a red flag, wearing an expression that promised trouble for whomever had disturbed the peace and quiet in her beloved infirmary. She wisely decided to ask later. For now she had to play the injured patient card in order to escape any possible ire coming her way.

"What is going on over here?" Madame Pomfrey demanded, annoyed at the interruption of her paper work. However her eyes fell almost immediately on Cordelia. "Ah, never mind. Next time I ask you to give me a yell should one of my patients wake up, don't take it literally, Miss Davis," the old nurse admonished Tracey who looked somewhat contrite. The witch then smiled at Cordelia, pleased that she seemed to be back to normal and promptly started inspecting her for any problems.

After a couple of minutes, Madame Pomfrey was done and started explaining what was yet to happen for Cordelia's treatment. "Well Miss Potter, as far as I can ascertain you are perfectly healthy – even though I still couldn't say why you are still alive in the first place. The paste that I used to heal your injuries and skin with, is still on you, so you will have to wash that off. There is no point to keep it on you any longer; it has worked to its full potential by now. At the moment you still look quite orange and because of the paste, I haven't had the chance to clean your hair either, so you might want to wash the dust out of that as well. Now I will help you to the bathroom and -"

She was suddenly interrupted by the door of the infirmary slamming against a wall when someone tried –and failed- to quickly enter the room.

"Madame Pomfrey, there has been an accident during the potions class. Someone added a wrong ingredient and the cauldron melted down. Professor Snape ordered me to escort the injured students to you," the voice of a second year timidly said.

The old nurse sighed and muttered to herself. "Can't that man give an actual lesson, just this once? It would most certainly spare me a lot of needless work!"

She gave Tracey and Daphne a stern look and spoke: "Walk with Miss Potter to the bathroom and give her a hand with washing off that burn salve if she needs it." She then looked at Tracey. "And if you need me, please keep your voice down, Miss Davis. I am old, not deaf." The old nurse didn't wait for an answer, before hurrying to assess the damage caused in the potions class.

 **-x-**

A few minutes later Cordelia stood in the shower, taking a greatly needed wash. She had always liked long, warm showers. Unfortunately living with the Dursleys didn't give her a lot of opportunity to indulge in that specific craving of her. 'Never mind,' she thought, as she turned the handle to add just a little bit more warm water to the mixture, 'I can enjoy it all I want right now. On a healer's proscription even!'

She was a bit confused about the warm water though. While she liked warm water, there always came a point when the water would become too hot for her and she would then be forced to either turn the temperature down again or stop showering altogether, before her normally creamy skin would become all pink. Today though there seemed to be no such limit on what temperature she could endure. Cordelia shrugged. It wasn't important at the moment. She could ponder later on why standing in the deliciously warm water felt so right to her.

A few more minutes later, Cordelia was finally finishing up after a delicate knock on the door -courtesy of Daphne- reminded her that she couldn't stay there all day. She turned off the stream of water and cleaned away the liquid that had dripped in her eyes. When she finally opened her eyes, she caught sight of a strand of her hair, that she had meticulously cleaned to get rid of all the dirt and grime that had been stuck in it ever since the first task.

Cordelia gave a startled yelp, which alerted her friends who were waiting for her to finish on the other side of the door, and ran towards the mirror. She was faintly aware of the door opening and the muttered 'Merlin's beard' from Daphne. She was too preoccupied with taking in her own appearance however to give them any attention.

Cordelia had always been a rather beautiful girl. While she wasn't tall by any means –quite the opposite actually- there was something about her that caught people's attention. She had a soft, slender body that was almost petite, a creamy white skin, dark ebony hair that reached to her shoulder blades and which contrasted beautifully with her skin tone, and the most enchanting, emerald green eyes anyone had ever seen.

The girl who looked back at her from the mirror was barely recognisable as being Cordelia Potter. Oh she was similar enough. She had the same slender body, slightly skinny from her years living at her relatives' place, but her skin was free from any blemishes and was a soft, creamy colour, paler than usual. Her hair, from the top of her head to the little patch between her legs, was an intriguing silvery white that Cordelia had never seen before. And where two emerald orbs should have been, looked now two haunting eyes, the colour of dark amethysts, back at her in shock.

'What in Morgana's name has happened to me?'

 **-x-**

 **Author Note:** There was one reviewer who seemed to have caught on that Cordelia might not be dead after all. So I assume that I wrote that part reasonably well… Anyway, Cordelia is still alive and has not yet reached Westeros. She still has some things to do and mysteries to uncover before she can go there. Let me know what you think!


	3. I am back

**Warning:** This is an 'a Song of Ice and Fire'-crossover, so keep in mind that this story may include, but may not be limited to: foul language, blood, gore, sexual situations, disembowelment, rape, character death, dismemberment, incest, defenestration and being burned alive.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

 **Author Note:** Thank you for all the nice reviews! While most of them were simply prompts for me to get on with the next chapter, I appreciate them all the same.

 **-x-**

Chapter Three: I am back

 **-x-**

The sound of three pairs of feet passing over solid granite reverberated through the otherwise silent hallways on the first floor of Hogwarts castle. Every so often, Daphne and Tracey cast concerned glances at the third witch in their company. Cordelia Potter was staring intently at the passing ground under her moving feet with unseeing eyes. Her mind was obviously on other, more pressing, matters as she was nervously biting on her bottom lip, something her two best friends knew to be a tick of hers if she was particularly worried about the happenings in her life.

She had yet to utter a single word beyond some half-hearted assurances, for Madam Pomfrey's sake, that she did feel fine. That had been back in the infirmary where they had left minutes earlier after Cordelia had been forced to undergo a quick check-up, to ascertain that her unexpected change of appearance had not had a negative impact on her health. The outcome of the test had been quite clear. Physically she had been perfectly fine. Even though no one seemed to have the slightest clue on what could have possibly caused her new and drastically changed likeness.

Daphne and Tracey, who were trailing half a step behind their friend, who had yet to notice their disappearance from her sides, shared a meaningful look with the other before quickening their pace in order to catch up with the distraught witch.

After taking a deep breath Daphne decided to push through in order to get to the bottom of Cordelia's sudden behaviour. "You know that nothing really happened, right?" she hesitantly started. "Merlin knows how you did it this time, but against all odds you are still alive. And even though that dragon as good as incinerated you, you managed to avoid attaining any scars! That is pretty much a miracle considering that a good chunk of your skin was completely burned off."

Seeing that her friend had slowed down and had come back from whatever far recess in her mind her thoughts had been wandering, in order to pay attention to what was she was saying, Daphne softly continued. "Your hair and eyes may have changed, but you are still Cordelia Potter, sole heir of the Potter family, a stunning, beautiful, young woman, who can achieve anything if she would use her Slytherin cunning instead of that Gryffindor brashness, that she appears to be unable to get rid of."

There was a moment of silence where only the slow, rhythmic beating of their hearts could be heard, before Daphne swallowed in order to lubricate her suddenly dry throat. She slowly placed a slender hand on her friend's shoulder and finished her talk with conviction. "You are still our dear friend, Cordy. That will never change."

The white-haired witch whirled around on her feet upon hearing these last words and flung her arms around Daphne, who quickly reciprocated in the tight hug. She clung to her best friend, who had given her the reassurance that everything would be fine – somehow. The reassurance that she had desperately needed to hear. Face burrowed in the crook of her neck, she sobbed her heart out, trying to lighten her heart after all that had happened to her this last month. Chest heaving from the excess of emotions she was feeling, she slowly moistened the shoulders of Daphne's expensive, silk school robes with her salty tears.

"There, there, Cordy. We've got you," Daphne murmured to her fiend, while she patted her on the head, massaging her scalp in order to get her to calm down.

When the sobbing witch had somewhat settled down, she hesitantly started to speak. "It is just that everyone has always described me as looking as my father, but with my mother's eyes. That's gone. Now I have these weird, violet eyes and white hair of all things! All I have left from my father are the high cheekbones that come from grandmother Dorea's side of the family."

"I must say that I agree," Tracey decided to butt in, tired of passively watching the events unfold from the side-line as a mere spectator. "You do look a bit like a pigment-less Black when you stop to think about it for a moment or two."

This earned her a watery smile from Cordelia, who appreciated the clumsy attempt at alleviating the awkwardness that had been creeping into the conversation after her emotions had gotten the better of her.

Daphne however rolled her eyes at Tracey's trademarked, silly humour and suggested that they continue their journey towards the Great Hall, lest they miss breakfast. It was still early in the morning of this Tuesday, but at the pace they were going they were hard pressed to get there before supper.

Tracey defended her humour from her friend's eye rolling, convinced that there was absolutely nothing wrong with it whatsoever. "It's true though. If it weren't for her hair colour, you would think she is a daughter of the Most Ancient and Noble house of Black. She has got the slender build to boot!"

"Oh and Cordy?" Tracey called for her friend's attention, with a mischievous twinkle present in her eyes, in what sounded suspiciously like a singsong voice, "You don't have to worry about your looks. I am quite sure that Daffy would be more than happy to vouch for that." Tracey started skipping ahead of them in order to get a head start from the retribution that would inevitably follow; "After all, she did seem to be enjoying herself back in the bathroom, when you decided to give us a nice view of that delectable bum of yours. You looked rather cute!"

"Tracey!" followed Daphne's cry in mortification, not a split second later. With a slight blush adorning her normally pale face, the witch quickly sprinted forward in order to serve Tracey to a well-deserved slap on the arm. All sense of decorum, something the Ice Queen of Slytherin was known for amongst the school community, was momentarily forgotten in her pursuit of her elusive friend.

Cordelia shook her head at the duo's antics, as they were still chasing each other through the hallways. There was a wide, beaming smile on her face and her earlier tears and worries were all but forgotten. 'Those two will never cease to amaze me,' she thought to herself with a certain fondness.

Few minutes of playful banter later found the three witches approaching the last stop before their actual destination: the entrance hall. Stopping before the large, oaken doors of the great hall, the girls looked at each other trying to settle their nerves at what would most assuredly become an unpleasant experience. There was little any of them could do to make Cordelia's grand reintroduction into the land of the living, or more specifically the school community, any less awkward though.

'I am Cordelia Potter, the bloody Girl-Who-Lived, and I managed to survive a second near-death experience that would have killed any lesser person. Of course they will be all over me,' Cordelia sighed in frustration. 'Not to mention the idiotic articles, which the Daily Prophet will without any doubt have posted about the whole tournament.'

The pensive witch was startled from her thoughts when Tracey pointed her maple wand at her. "What in Morgana's name are you doing, Trace?"

"Just putting a small glamour on you. Nothing to worry about," Tracey assured her friend before waving her wand in front of Cordelia's new, haunting eyes with a series delicate gestures, containing a few twirls. "There that will do it," Tracey appraised her own spell work, pleased with the result of her handiwork.

Casting an inquisitive look at Daphne rendered her a quick reply to her unspoken question. "Your emotional breakdown back in the hallway, left some tear tracks on your face. Tracey covered it up for you. Now you look as pretty as you should be after your long beauty sleep," she teased lightly.

Cordelia nodded at the explanation and turned towards Tracey. "Thanks Trace," she told the dark haired witch with a grateful smile. "This is already going to be bad enough without me looking like an emotional wreck!"

The witch took a deep breath, filling her chest with the rather cool air from the corridor in an attempt to steel her nerves and stop the wrangling feeling she had in her stomach.

"Right then", she asked as much to herself as to the two Slytherins, "are we ready to go?"

When she received to firm and -more importantly- confident nods, Cordelia squared her shoulders and went through the wide open doors, entering the Great Hall. 'Time to face the masses.'

It was worse than she had expected.

The moment she set foot into the hall, where the vast majority of the student population was having their breakfast on this bleak Tuesday morning, silence descended upon the occupants of the room. The first to have noticed her entrance were the folks seated closest to the door. They snapped to look at her in dead silence, drinking in her new, exotic appearance, which in turn alerted the people around them that something unusual was at hand. This sequence of actions was repeated numerous times in a matter of mere seconds, until like the falling of domino stones everyone had their eyes trained intently on her person, while she was trying to walk seemingly unperturbed towards Fleur, who was eating at the end of the Ravenclaw table.

'Ignore them. Everything will be fine. You are almost there,' she desperately told herself, repeating the credo in her mind, in a desperate attempt to keep her courage from abandoning her.

As she was advancing through the narrow space that formed the corridor between the Ravenclaw and the Gryffindor table, all that could be heard was the sound of their footsteps echoing against the rough stone walls of the Great Hall, something that would have been drowned out by the noise of merriment of the numerous occupants of the Great Hall on a more normal day.

Eventually though their audience got over their shock induced stupor. At first one hushed conversation started, far away from her, but like a fire lightened in a dry forest in the summer it grew into a blazing inferno. In consternation at what they were seeing all students, from the most serious seventh years to the little, giddy first years, started whispering all over the Great Hall, discussing her reappearance; filling the Hogwarts grapevine with their thoughts and ideas, which were proudly presented as nothing less than knowledge and dry fact.

"Did you see her?" one whispered urgently to her friend. "How did she survive that dragon? She should have died." "Reckon she used some sort of Dark magic?" another speculated, thinking back to their theories from back in second year. "Wow she has become hot!" a guy in the back said none too quiet to his friends, who were nodding in agreement. "Merlin what happened to her green eyes? They are terrifying now! And why is her hair that colour?" "Do you think it is a fashion statement? Or did something go with her treatment?" two witches gossiped after seeing her appearance. "Do you think she would go out with me? I could show her a good time in a broom cupboard."

Trying to ignore the obnoxious and frankly insulting comments she was hearing, Cordelia fastened her pace and head held high, she made her way towards Fleur whose eyes she had caught and who seemed to have been having her breakfast in peace and quiet, away from juvenile admirers.

When Fleur saw her friend, who had been incapacitated until now, approaching, she hurried to stand up to greet her. She took Cordelia delicately in her arms, before pressing her rosy lips in a soft kiss to her forehead, happy that she was once again with them.

Fleur pulled Cordelia down along with her and forced her into the seat next to her own. As Daphne and Tracey arrived and slid into the seats at the opposite side of the table, bemused at the her taking control of the situation, Fleur started piling a rather considerable amount of scrambled eggs and bacon on Cordelia's empty plate. Cordelia could do little more than watch in slight astonishment how hurricane Fleur efficiently prepared her plate.

"Don't give me that look, Cordy," Fleur admonished her friend, while giving her a stern glare. "You have been lying unconscious in the infirmary for three days, surviving on nothing but nutrient potions. That is more than enough to live, but you will be practically famished about now. Now eat. And be silent," she finished as an afterthought, head held high, with an imperial look on her face.

Smirking, Cordelia shook her head in exasperation. 'All my friends seem to have been suspiciously clingy so far… but then again I almost died, so I guess they have a reason to.' She simply shrugged it off and dug in, ignoring the stares and whispers that were still abundantly present all around them in favour of enjoying her first real meal in over three days straight.

 **-x-**

"You English barbarians truly are obsessed with you beloved bacon, aren't you?" Fleur exclaimed in consternation, a bit nauseated, when Cordelia reached out to fill her plate for the third time. She frowned at the plate as if it had personally offended her. "You are going to get fat with all this heavy, greasy food, mon ami! Don't tell me that I haven't warned you."

Cordelia was quick to reply, though she still took the time to first swallow the food already in her mouth - there was no need to give the beautiful French champion any more ideas about Englishmen being barbarians after all. "Hey! I resent that notion! I am pretty sure that I burned at least some calories during the first task."

Upon hearing this, Daphne blinked and then groaned in exasperation. "You have corrupted her Tracey! You have told her too many of your stupid jokes," she pointed an accusing finger at her friend, who was busy giving a high five to Cordelia.

This reaction made the four young women burst into a fit of giggles.

When they were finally about ready to settle down again, they were interrupted by a familiar voice. "Do you mind if we join you?"

Looking up Cordelia noticed none other than Ron and Hermione waiting a few steps beside her. Hermione was her frizzy haired self and was positively beaming at her in happiness of seeing her back on her feet. Ron on the other hand, while still smiling, was looking rather awkward standing there, since the last time they had really spoken, they had still been fighting over the Goblet of Fire incident.

Looking at him now though, Cordelia could see that he really seemed to be sorry about what he had done. Despite everything, she knew that Ron was truly a good guy. Sure, he could be an idiot from time to time and couldn't deal with emotions even if he got someone to spell everything out form him, but he also possessed good qualities, which were unfortunately often overlooked in favour of his more attention catching bad ones.

Cordelia smiled back at Hermione and said in a chipper tone, "Sure take a seat! I am sure we still have something left for Ron to eat."

"It wasn't from a lack of trying on your part though. That much is obvious," Fleur butted in, ignoring the warning poke in her ribcage, she received in retribution from the white haired witch sitting beside her.

Hermione slid down on the bench beside her friend, gave her a quick sideways hug and wasted no time to start talking with great enthusiasm. "Oh Cordelia, I am ever so pleased to see you are up and alive again! Ron and I had seen you entering the Great Hall –who didn't-, but we thought you might want to eat first before we came over. Why did you come eat here by the way and not at the Gryffindor table like you usually do?"

Before Cordelia got the chance to answer any of Hermione's rapid questions, the witch, who was already getting breathless from the seemingly unstoppable stream of words that flowed continuously out of her mouth, continued seemingly without a care in the world. "Never mind that! Are you really alright? I have looked everywhere in the library to see what could have happened to you during the first task, but I couldn't find anything. Though I do wonder why you look that way. Is it from the treatment? Ron and I were banned from the infirmary so we couldn't -"

"Hermione breathe! And one question at a time please. We have discussed this before haven't we?" Cordelia quickly stopped her bushy haired friend's ramblings, as she was quickly losing track of what was being said, something that was hardly an uncommon occurrence when Hermione got excited.

"Sorry Cordelia, I am just glad to see you again," Hermione replied, a small blush creeping up her cheeks, because of the dawning realization of the way she had been acting. She knew perfectly well that even after all these years she could still loose herself in her quest for knowledge with practiced ease.

"Anyway I have collected these for you," she continued, trying to steer the conversation away from the previous subject, while niftily picking something out of her neatly organised, but lead heavy book bag. "These are all the newspaper articles that have been published about the first task in general and your performance and health specifically," she trailed off unsure what more there was to add.

Cordelia took the scraps of cut out paper in possession with a grateful nod, deciding to read them at a later time as they were likely to ruin her mood, before she tucked them safely away between the pages of the thick tome they used for History of Magic.

Thinking back on the last subject Hermione had mentioned, before she herself had interrupted the girls monologue, she decided to simply ask the question on her mind. "Hermione, why were you and Ron banned from the infirmary? I know that Madam Pomfrey can be a bit severe from time to time, but what in Merlin's name did you have to do in order to get her riled up enough to make her resort to such measures?"

Hermione's blush, that had yet to fade completely from her cheeks, intensified as she remembered her transgression that had resulted in them getting on the bad side of a member of staff.

"Well, uh, I saw a house elf working there, I believe his name was bloomy, and, well, I tried to talk to him about his atrocious working conditions. Out of nowhere he got tears into his eyes and started crying," she explained to her friend who was shaking her head in exasperation. "Don't give me that look, Cordelia! You know that house elves deserve to be free! Anyway then Ron suddenly became cross with me for 'starting something like that' when we were visiting you and that, uh, sort of resulted in us getting into a fight –"

"That's about where the old nurse barged in an kicked us out for disturbing the peace in her infirmary and for messing with her staff," Ron finished the tale as it was obvious that Hermione wanted to be anywhere but here at the moment, where she had to undergo the exasperated looks of her friends, who couldn't understand why she couldn't simply let go of the subject. This was all to the great amusement of Daphne, who had an ongoing rivalry with the studious witch. "We decided that it would be safer to let her cool down for a while," Ron shrugged of the end.

Hermione suddenly rose to her feet and hoisted her full book bag on her shoulder, making her lean slightly to the side because of the sheer weight of the old tomes in it. "Yeah, uh, I still had something to discuss with Padma Patil about our Ancient Runes project, so I am off," she hurriedly said to no one in particular, not meeting their eyes.

Before she marched away from the conversation that had suddenly become very awkward for her, Hermione leaned forward towards Cordelia's ear and whispered, her breath tickling her friend's creamy skin, "You should really consider writing a letter to Padfoot in order to inform him how you are doing. The poor man is bound to have read the Dailey Prophet and is probably worried sick about you."

"Thanks for the advice," Cordelia nodded in agreement, thankful for the suggestion, as she would have most likely not realised until much later and the last thing she wanted was for Sirius to storm into the castle, trying to find information on his goddaughter's health. "I will make sure to do that first thing this evening!"

She then turned back towards her waiting friends, who had started a conversation on the different uses of moonstone when used in potions, and doing so she caught sight of Ron who was still seated one seat over, besides the place that Hermione had vacated just seconds ago. He seemed oddly pale, making his freckles go into stark contrast with his skin. Seeing her look at him, he swallowed deeply and nervously began, "Cordelia, I have been thinking a lot lately and I –"

"It is alright Ron, you don't have to apologise to me," Cordelia reassured her oldest and only male friend, having made a split second decision that she had indeed forgiven him for acting like a total jerk during the last weeks, leading up to her tragic confrontation with her dragon.

She patted the empty seat beside her, "We are going to have a serious conversation about what happened though," she threatened, her haunting violet eyes dangerously narrowed to slits, making it crystal clear that he was not completely off the hook, just yet.

"Now though, the two of us are going to finish off that plate of succulent, perfectly crispy bacon," the scary looking witch added seemingly as an afterthought, going from being dead serious to absolutely delighted at having more bacon so abruptly that it made her friends wonder whether she might have a multiple personality disorder. "Fleur has pretty much dared me to do it, so who am I to deny?"

Said French witch managed to somehow produce a strangled noise of disbelief, to the great amusement of Daphne and Tracey, who were watching the drama unfold before their very own eyes, before she dropped her pretty blonde head on her folded arms on the table, banging her head slightly. "Impossible … cochons …"

Still looking somewhat apprehensive at the upcoming conversation, but for the most part reassured by the thought of a chance to sit for second breakfast, Ron slid over and tucked in with gusto along with Cordelia.

When they had finally finished their plate it was about time to get ready in order to head to their first class of the day. Quite a few students had already left to head to their classes, though most of the Great Hall was still filled with people happily gossiping about life at Hogwarts, but mostly Cordelia.

"Are we going?" Daphne asked, a little impatient after watching Cordelia and Ron eat their pile of greasy food. Structured as always, Daphne had been keeping an eye on the time and had informed the others. "Now that you two have finished we can finally go do something more interesting." Standing up, she collected her books, before looking at the violet-eyed witch in front of her. "Oh and Cordy, I have prepared some of my spare writing utensils for you, since you probably won't have time anymore to fetch yours from your dormitory."

"Thanks Daphne! I owe you one, but you guys go ahead," Cordelia told her friends who were looking expectantly in her direction, waiting to go to their next class. "Dear Ronald and I still need to have a little chat. Isn't that right?" Ron grumbled something intelligible that could be passed as an affirmation with some goodwill, while his ears were quickly heating up in embarrassment.

Tracey seemed to have caught on to what Cordelia wanted to do, since she showed no sign of going anywhere, which would mean missing the spectacle, that promised to become a treat to witness. Daphne saw the mischievous grin form on her friend's face and didn't waste any time to swiftly link their arms together and frogmarch her out of the Great Hall. Right before the two Slytherins were out of earshot, Daphne turned around and gave her friend an evil grin along with some encouraging words. "Good luck Cordy. Don't let him off the hook too soon!"

Cordelia shook her head at the duo's antics. 'I should have known that they would do something like this. After all, it's not every day I give Ron a tongue-lashing and Merlin knows how much he annoys them,' the sole witch grimaced. She looked at the redhead next to her, who seemed very interested in his own shoes. "Coming Ron?" she proposed, wanting to get this awkward but greatly needed conversation started and over as soon as possible.

A short nod later, they were on their way.

 **-x-**

Cordelia and Ron were walking through the corridors towards the Transfiguration classroom, located on the third floor, where Professor McGonagall, who happened to be their fair, but very strict Head of House, taught. When the witch was finished checking the collection of parchment, ink and quills, which Daphne had given her along with a small sack that could act as a book bag for now, she raised her eyes to her red-haired friend's freckled face, who was content silently walking with her.

He didn't seem to be inclined to start their conversation anytime soon, so Cordelia looked ahead of her, eyes set in the distance and started talking, thinking it was just too crazy to continue dancing around the problem like this. It was with slight hesitance though, as she knew that whatever was going to be said now would change their relationship and they wouldn't be able to take it back. "I am not angry with you, you know. I mean, I was at first, but after some time had passed, I realised that me getting chosen as a champion probably rubbed you in all the wrong places.

She thought for a second before continuing. "It was more disappointment that I felt; sadness even, because someone who I happily called my friend before had abandoned me when I needed him the most, when everyone else turned against me. It was even worse as you yourself accused me of putting my name in that thrice damned Goblet of Fire and didn't believe me when I guaranteed you I had nothing to do with it."

Cordelia trailed of when she saw that Ron had stopped walking and had kicked the solid stone floor with his foot, an angry expression on his face. "I don't think I ever truly believed that you entered yourself either", he began, "but when I saw that it was once again _you_ that got something I had dreamed about: a chance to finally get the spotlight, to get some money, I just –"

"Became jealous?" Cordelia finished his sentence for him, seeing that Ron was struggling with his emotions.

"Pretty much yeah," Ron confirmed her assessment of the situation, looking intently at the stitching on Cordelia's shoulder, as he didn't seem to be able to bear meeting her eyes at the moment.

"My entire life I have been the second in everything. I have six older brothers. My eldest brother, Bill, became Prefect when he was at Hogwarts and even managed to become Head Boy. Now he has found an exciting, well payed job at Gringotts as a curse breaker. Charlie was the best Gryffindor seeker in ages and as the Quidditch Captain we got a strike of five victories for the cup in a row. He could have played for England if he had wanted to. Percy walked into Bill's footsteps and now he is working hard, trying to make a name for himself at the Ministry, which is something to be proud of, no matter how much I may laugh about it."

"Then you've got Fred and George. Their grades are good enough, but they are really talented and they manage to make everyone laugh with their pranks. No matter what I do, I will always be second best! And you would imagine that Ginny would be the only one who got it even worse, but no, she is the girl in the family! That is what makes her all special and unique in mom's eyes. She at least gets her own second hand robes. Everything I wear is passed down from my brothers. Have you not seen my robes for the ball? They –"

It was at this point that Cordelia stopped Ron's diatribe on the unfairness of his life, by smacking him on the arm, with a force behind it that belied her slender frame. "Oh, stop wallowing in your own self-pity already Ron," she sternly told her friend, who was rubbing the sore spot on his arm, which was sure to bruise, in indignation, "and don't act so childishly. I didn't hit you _that_ hard!"

"No one expects you to be exactly like your brothers," she practically yelled at him, exasperated at his apparent denseness, something he could sometimes exhibit. "You have to simply choose your own path in life. And besides, if you really want to become a Prefect… how hard can it be? There are only four male Gryffindors in our year. Dean and Seamus have decent grades, but they would probably not take the Prefect badge serious and would rather goof around than do their duties. I know this. You know this. But more importantly, Professor McGonagall knows this," she reasoned with her friend who was listening intently.

"Neville is a good guy and would do his duties swimmingly, but he struggles with his studies already and that would only get worse if he had to factor in things like patrol duties and such," Cordelia went on. "On top of that, he would need to be able to guide our house when needed and be a confidant for the younger years, should they find themselves troubled while attending Hogwarts. No matter how much I like the guy, he is not be confident enough to be that centre point of attention."

"Right, all you have said is true, but where are you going with this? It's not like McGonagall would choose me," Ron rebutted.

"Of course she would! Are you the strongest candidate to become Prefect? No," Cordelia stated bluntly, "But compared to the others you make a damn good chance."

"Right now all our Head of House sees is a boy who doesn't appear to be interested in anything beyond stuffing his face full with food, talk about quidditch and play chess. Not necessarily in that order," she said, holding her elegant hand up in order to stave off Ron's upcoming retort. "You are an average student at best and are satisfied when you manage to attain a passing grade. Now, if you want to become a Prefect, you have exactly one year to show old McGonagall that you can put effort in your school work and that you can work organized."

"You really think I can become a Prefect?" Ron asked, hope shining through in his voice, as he stood a bit straighter already.

"Sure! As long as you are willing to work for it," Cordelia reassured the boy beside her with a cheerful smile. "And that counts for everything, you know. The twins have their pranks and are now working hard in the hopes of someday starting joke shop of all things. You do have your own talents. You just have to do something with them."

Ron let out an unintelligible noise of agreement, though he was clearly mulling over something in his head.

"If you want to get better robes I am convinced that we can find some book or another in the library on the subject of tailoring that can help you in that regard," Cordelia told him. "Or if that doesn't work you could just transfigure it into something more to your liking. That should hold for a couple of hours at the very least," she thought out loud.

Ron smiled at his friend, who was supporting him despite everything. Making up his mind he asked her, "Say Cordy, could we practice my keeper skills a bit this year? If I want to become the Gryffindor keeper next year I can't be seen slouching now, can I?"

Cordelia was immensely relieved when she saw the outcome of their talk before her.

"Whatever you want Ron. We can practice at the quidditch pitch this Sunday if you want? We can even get some more people together and play a pickup game!" Cordelia agreed, sounding very excited all of a sudden at the idea of roaming the sky once more on her faithful Firebolt. "I have really missed feeling the wind in my hair."

Just as she said this a clock chimed, signalling the time.

"That will have to wait though! If we don't hurry we will be late for the old cat's class and we can't have that if you want to be a Perfect Prefect like Percy," Cordelia laughed, while she took off, running quickly, leaving her friend behind.

"Oi! Not funny, Cordelia."

 **-x-**

A few hours later the white-haired Potter swiftly made her way, without bothering to look up, past hordes of students, who were working diligently, seated next to each other at the long heavy tables of the library, through the ceiling high shelves containing stacks upon stacks of books on a wide variety of subjects, towards a dark, dusty and -more importantly- forgotten area in the back of the Hogwarts library.

It was here between the shelves that contain the works of a more esoteric nature, which only a handful of dedicated Newt-students bothered to consult in their pursuit of exotic titbits of knowledge to finish their papers, that Cordelia, Daphne and Tracey had taken up the habit of studying.

The dust was rather bothersome as it made the witches sneeze without fail and it had the rather annoying habit of sticking to whichever surface it could land on, however dealing with it was rather straightforward if one knew an efficient cleaning charm or two. If you made the effort to add a privacy spell, to ward off any potential eavesdroppers, and a light notice-me-not charm, to stay under the radar of those few individuals who ventured this far into the library, you had the perfect meeting spot for three teenage girls to study or make their homework, but above all to talk in all the privacy one could possibly attain while at a boarding school.

Their little hideaway was equipped with a heavy, ornately carved, oaken table that someone had managed to squeeze in between the back wall of the library and the veritable maze of bookshelves separating them from the entrance and the more frequently visited areas.

When Cordelia finally rounded the last bookshelf, the last obstacle on her familiar route towards their spot, she noticed straight away that someone was currently occupying their table. However to her great relief it was a familiar blonde-haired witch who was seated in one of the comfy leather chairs, head bowed over the long roll of parchment that she was scribbling on in her elegant handwriting, which bore resemblance to calligraphy, still adding to its already considerable length.

Cordelia plopped down in the armchair opposite the diligently working witch, before she dropped her head back on the headrest, hair cascading over her shoulder like an avalanche of snow in the mountains, and let out a long suffering sigh through her nose. Her tired, violet eyes were staring intently at the dust particles, which flew around above her high in the hair, being moved in enthralling patterns by the currents in the air, making a memorable exposition as one after the other lighted up either by the different beams of light that managed to reach this deep into the library or the flickering torches, mounted to the walls.

Daphne raised her head in order to look at the new arrival and daintily lifted one of her elegantly curved, blonde eyebrows when she noticed her friend reclining in her chair, limbs sprawled all over the place. She once more focussed her writing, carefully checking it for any mistakes or discrepancies she might have made during the distraction, before asking, "What has got you so riled up? Did you have a bad day mayhap?"

More than happy to finally be able to vent her pent up frustrations to a listening ear, Cordelia obliged. "The entire day people have been staring at me… Well, my hair more like it and when I look back at them they won't even meet my eyes. It's as if… as if they are convinced that my change of appearance is somehow infective."

Taking a deep breath, Cordelia pushed herself to be in a more appropriate, upright position and looked at Daphne who had stopped pretending to pay any notice to her unfinished school work. "And then the worst part you already know!" she continued louder than would be appropriate for a library were it not for their silencing charms, clearly on a roll. "Who in their right mind decided to host a bloody Yule Ball this year? When Professor McGonagall called me out to stay after class this morning, I thought she was going to talk to me about the examination I missed, but instead she warned me that as a champion I will be expected to participate in the opening dance of the ball.

Theatrically waving her arms around before her, she managed to indignantly bring out. "Which means that not only will I have to be in the spotlight, but I also have to bring a date and dance with him – in public! One, I can't dance. Not even a little bit. And two, ever since the Yule Ball was announced, I feel like every single male student has been watching me like a hawk, eyeing me up as they go. I swear every time one them takes even a single step in my direction, I am panicking inside that he is going to ask me to be his date to the ball."

Cordelia looked lost as she told this, clearly on the last of her nerves, which had been frayed by the taxing circumstances of the day, and continued more wistfully in a more sedate tone. "Ugh. For the first time in my entire life I would almost wish that I was born as a male. Then I would at the very least have been able to ask someone myself instead of having to sit around and wait," she finished her part of the conversation.

Daphne carefully laid her quill down, making sure to not make any ink splotches on her unfinished work, before informing her in a measured tone. "You can always tell any would be suitors that you will consider their offer. That will keep them at bay for a little while at least. Though if you want a specific boy to take you, you could always drop a few subtle, or not so subtle hints," Daphne smirked at Cordelia who was clearly out of her depth in this conversation. "Or if you don't have anyone in mind, I could always set you up with someone… I have a lot of cousins, you know."

Cordelia shook her head with an uneven smirk tugging on one of her rosy lips. "Merlin save me from that! Though perhaps I will have to take you up on that offer, just to be done with it." She looked pensive for a moment before posing her most pressing question. "Daffy, could you teach me how to dance? I know your mother taught you when you were a child as part of your education."

Cordelia blinked and suspiciously regarded her best friend, when she saw Daphne's reaction to her request. She didn't particularly like the sly smile that had formed on Daphne's face, nor the cunning glint in her eyes that spoke volumes of the fact that the Slytherin was up to something.

Said witch replied with fake nonchalance, "I suppose I could assist you in that particular endeavour. Though I would have to insist that I also have the liberty to teach you some other Ladylike arts while we are at it. It would simply be a wasted opportunity not to do so. And besides, it is about time that you know how to act like a proper Lady of your station!"

Cordelia groaned and mulled about the tricky offer, 'That doesn't sound very appealing. Though what are my other real choices?' Making up her mind she spoke clearly, "Fine. You can turn me into a Lady if that's what you want. Happy now?"

Daphne beamed at her friend, obviously very pleased with her decision. "Very! Now open your books Cordy! Just because you had a though day, doesn't mean you can just laze about." The happy witch suddenly narrowed her eyes, critically looking at the way Cordelia was sitting in her armchair. "And straighten you back. A Lady doesn't slouch!"

Cordelia rolled her eyes in exasperation. Merlin knew she was already starting to regret her decision. Perhaps she should have gone to Tracey of even Fleur instead. Sighing she obliged to Daphne's command. The other witch had been right after all: she would curse herself tomorrow if she slacked off today.

 **-x-**

An hour later, Daphne and Cordelia were going over common ward schemes and the uses of Nordic runes in them, when Tracey finally made her appearance at their meeting point. "Hey girls I - why is Daphne smiling like a cat who got the canary?" she asked to Cordelia's back who was sitting nearest to her, more than a bit worried after spotting the slightly unsettling sight in front of her.

Before Cordelia got the chance to answer however, Daphne replied, her grin becoming even more pronounced than it had already been for the last hour. "Because our sweet Cordelia here agreed to let me coach her in her studies to become a true Lady."

No. Cordelia most definitely did not like the smirk on Tracey's face. She should have chosen for Fleur after all. Damn.

 **-x-**

 **Author Note:** I know that officially Fleamont and Euphemia Potter are Harry's grandparents. However as they were not once mentioned in the entirety of the series, I have no qualms whatsoever to call on my right as a writer to make changes as I see fit and name Charlus Potter and Dorea Black as Harry's grandparents. This is not simply my fancy, it will be instrumental for the story later on.

Despite having an emotional breakdown in this chapter, I do consider Cordelia to be a strong female character. The events of the last months: being vilified by the school –again-, having to confront a dragon and witness the change of her own appearance, the last thing tying her to her parents, just sort of became too much for her to bear.

I am not entirely sure who I want Cordelia to go to the Yule Ball with, so I am open for suggestions.

As always, let me know what you think about the story in the review section. Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated!


	4. Balls and Glory

**Warning:** This is an 'a Song of Ice and Fire'-crossover, so keep in mind that this story may include, but may not be limited to: foul language, blood, gore, sexual situations, disembowelment, rape, character death, dismemberment, incest, defenestration and being burned alive.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

 **Author Note:** My heartfelt gratitude to all of you who have read, liked, followed and reviewed the story. An additional thank you, for the latter group, who have made sure to point out any mistakes, errors or other stupid stuff I left in the story!

There were quite a few comments on me spending too much time on Cordelia's years at Hogwarts. After some time mulling over the issue, I have decided to reduce the time we are going to spend away from Westeros. I hope this will make the story more enjoyable read. Despite that the two following chapters will play out at Hogwarts, as I have started some story lines that I would like to see to their finish.

 **-x-**

Chapter Four: Balls and Glory

 **-x-**

The last few days had gone by like a whirlwind; or at least so it seemed to Cordelia.

Said girl was hurrying back to her common room after a late night study session with Daphne and Tracey at their favourite spot in the library. Today's subject had been Ancient Runes; a magical art that Cordelia had only truly started to appreciate after the First Task.

The reason for that lay for a big part with the way Ancient Runes was taught at Hogwarts. The vast majority of the work that they were assigned to in class was simply learning about the different runes in existence and their history. This was done by making the students read and translate old texts and scrolls containing a wide variety of stories, ranging from fairy tales narrated by Beedle the Bard, to the best way to prepare cabbages for dinner.

Cordelia could see why they were forced to do this, she honestly did, but that didn't have to mean that she had to like it. There simply was no point in hammering in on complex, esoteric runic arrays when you didn't even understand the meaning of the runes themselves – and as any student would testify: there were a lot of them.

That, combined with the fact that the composition of the arrays was heavily influenced by Arithmancy, a course that not all students took up, stating that one difficult, theoretic subject was more than enough to fry their brains, led to the sad fact that there was little time spent on the practical magical properties of the runic script, a few basic demonstrations performed by Professor Babbling aside.

What Cordelia had achieved during the First Task was the result of more than a few frustrating hours spent working in the back of the library with Tracey, whose mother was a Runic Mistress, present to guide their work in the right direction.

Daphne's contribution, some icy glares and reprimands to 'shut up and continue working, because I am not here for my enjoyment' aside, was a copy of a runic design, which had effects similar to what they were trying to create, that she had once found in an increasingly rare book she had skimmed through while discovering the Greengrass library.

It was lucky that Daphne had been able to convince her father to send the copy as it had been immensely useful to their project. They had searched high and low to find a copy of the tome in the Hogwarts library, but were forced to conclude that there weren't any. It hadn't really been all that surprising though, since the runic array they had used as a blueprint for their own work was written down by the author as a theoretical bas to the creation of inferi.

Cordelia smiled thinking back to the first class after the First Task. Professor Babbling had been pretty much raving about her work, something which was not all that surprising as the concepts she had used weren't taught until late into their Newt years – if at all.

When the Professor had found out that it had in fact been a group accomplishment, she had made the impromptu decision to give the three of them an Outstanding for extra credit work. Cordelia shook he head in amusement, 'I wonder what her reaction would have been if she had known what the golems are actually based upon.'

Hermione's facial expression when all this unfolded before her eyes had been priceless! Daphne was already planning to make a picture as soon as she could get her hands on her family's pensieve. It had been a perfect mixture of shock that there was indeed such a thing as extra credit and outrage that she hadn't been the one to get it. Even now, a couple of days later, Daphne still walked around at times with a smug grin whenever the memory resurfaced. 'Hermione Granger being outmatched at something… it was most certainly a learning experience!'

When the wandering witch reached the Gryffindor common room it was still rather busy despite the late hour. Most of the lower years had gone to bed already, some sent by the prefects on grounds of being too rowdy, but many of the elder students had come back from a relaxed Friday night out, making it just in time before curfew went in, just like herself.

The silver-haired girl took in the crowd of students before her, who were sat on the cosy, red couches situated all over the room. They were all talking to each other in an amicable matter, producing quite a bit of noise all together, despite the tapestries hanging from the walls, which were enchanted for the exact reason of reducing the noise level.

Her eyes finally zoned in on Ron and Neville playing a game of chess, though the mountain of clumsily written notes and the open Transfiguration books were sufficient proof that they had been involved in some more productive ventures at one point. By the looks of it Ron was beating Neville by an admirable degree, which didn't really surprise anyone. Hermione was sitting near them, reading a weighty tome, oblivious to the happenings in the world around her.

When Ron took notice of her over Neville's shoulder, a smile appeared on his freckled face and he waved her over to the empty seat besides Neville.

Cordelia was happy to notice, as she was making her way towards them, that she was under a lot less scrutiny now than had been the case a few days before. Her first night back had been a downright nightmare in that regard.

Her exotic new looks, combined with the obvious fact that she had survived a bloody dragon had been cause for a dead silence the moment she set foot in the room and a lot of stares. Fortunately people lost interest pretty fast. She had a track record of surviving deadly attacks after all and while she was indubitably a sight to sore eyes now, it wasn't as if she hadn't been pretty before and her hair, while lighter, was not that different than Fleur's own silver tresses.

Sighing deeply, the young witch gave a wave towards Hermione, who barely looked up from her light reading material and plopped down in the comfy seat beside her two closest male friends. A quick look at the board gave her all the information she had to know. Neville was losing badly. Taking pity on her shy friend, who was clearly out of his depth matched against Ron's tactical genius, she reached out and moved one of his Rooks before he could play his Tower, an action that would have proven to be disastrous for his game.

"Oi, Cordelia! No helping him", Ron exclaimed, trying to look annoyed at Cordelia's interfering in their game, even though he was more than pleased to have some actual competition for a change. "I almost had him!"

"That you did", the silver-haired witch amicably agreed. "Now though you can play against me for a while; your head is getting too big with all those victories you have been stacking up."

Neville looked distinctively relieved when he heard that he would no longer be needed to play against Ron, having long since grown weary of constantly losing. "Thank Merlin!" he exclaimed before vacating his seat in order to give Cordelia a better view of the wooden chess board. Even the black king seemed to rejoice, as he lifted his crown in greeting.

Cordelia bumped his shoulder in acknowledgement of his words, even though she kept her mind on the pieces before her and as such didn't see his nervous reaction. She knew this game was lost -it had been lost as soon as it had started honestly-, but she was sure that the next one they started would prove to be more exciting.

 **-x-**

At first Ron and Cordelia had been evenly matched, each acquiring as many victories as they gained losses, but as the evening turned into night her concentration started to waver and so did her ability to see through Ron's elaborate strategies, resulting in three wins in a row in favour of Ron.

One hour and more than a few matches later, Ron, yawning loudly, finally decided to call it a night. Cordelia thought silently that such obnoxious yawning would most assuredly be against Daphne's rules, despite them not having their first 'class' until the following morning.

"I think I am going to bed, Cordy", Ron said to the witch who was starting to get grumpy, "Hermione will be forcing me to spend most of our waking hours in the library and I don't fancy Madam Pince cursing me for snoring too loudly."

Cordelia tiredly rubbed her eyes, before conceding defeat; Ron was simply better than her when it pertained to chess and she had no chance of winning if she could not concentrate, so she just wished him a good night.

All alone now in the silent room Cordelia took out a crumbled piece of parchment from her book bag, which had been firmly pressed between the newspaper articles about the First Task, which Hermione had given her. She had added to her collection ever since she had woken up, as new articles continued to be printed, which was not surprising, if you kept in mind that the Triwizard Tournament going southwards continued to be a hot topic.

It was easily noticeable that the articles had varied massively both length, quality, subject and stance, despite being published in a span of mere days.

Rita Skeeters had initially written a lengthy piece on how she –a twelve year old girl apparently- should never have been allowed to participate by the heads of the respective schools and that should she not make it, something the writer had taken as a given considering the extensive injuries, it was their fault the wizarding world's hero had died such a horrible death.

As soon as word got out that she was in fact recovering, she had of course changed her tone like a leaf in the wind!

She had published an article that not so subtly pointed out connections between herself, the Dark Lord and the mysterious Dark magic that had led to his demise that fateful autumn night in October. When she had made her public appearance, Skeeters had taken her otherworldly appearance as proof that some ritual or some other piece of foul magic had gone awry and had backfired spectacularly on her.

Pure and utter hogwash of course! Cordelia had not been able to stop herself from feeling slightly impressed though. The follow-up article had correctly stated that her solution for the First Task was divined from necromancy. 'That was some excellent journalism there!'

She shrugged her shoulders at that; it was the least of her worries.

She carefully smoothed out the worn parchment, before once again reading Sirius' letter. As she did so, she felt the tense muscles in her back slightly relax.

 _My dearest Cordelia,_

 _Words cannot begin to describe how relieved I felt when I received your letter. When word reached me that you had gotten injured while performing in the first task of the Triwizard Tournament, my first aspiration was to drop anything I was holding and come over to ensure that everything would be alright with my sweet goddaughter. Fortunately, Moony managed to calm me down enough to see reason as it would have not been beneficial to show my head at Hogwarts with so many Ministry officials present._

 _That is why Professor Moony and his faithful canine friend have paid you a visit on Sunday in the dead of the night. We were saddened to see that you were still unconscious at the time, but it was enough to ascertain that you would live to see another day._

 _Before I go any further I am obliged to congratulate you for your sneaky way of dealing with your dragon. While the execution could be improved upon – especially the last part – you have managed to complete the task without having to go near the danger yourself. The Marauders are proud of you!_

 _In your letter you described some changes in your appearance; more specific a change in your hair and eye colour and your scar being almost completely indiscernible. While I cannot speak for you being finally rid of that wretched scar, I can say that your current colouring reminds me of a story -legend really- about my family's ancestor. I have long believed this to be exactly that, a story, but your change of physical appearance suggests otherwise. I will have to search into my family's library to read up on the subject. I will be able to explain everything when we see each other during the summer holidays._

 _For now it is far more important for you to concentrate on more pressing matters, like the next task of the Tournament, finding a suitor for the Yule Ball or the 'Decorum Lessons' your friend Daphne is preparing for you. All joking aside though. How in Merlin's name did you get yourself into that mess? I spent my entire childhood trying to get out of my classes!_

 _With all my love,_

 _Padfoot_

Cordelia smiled when she finished reading the letter. Despite having spent so little time with her godfather, she really considered him to be some kind of father-figure and he had written the exact words that not only brought a smile back to her face, but also managed to soothe most of her fears.

She was rather curious about the reasons behind her transformation though, but she knew that Sirius would not budge on this subject. She would simply have to patiently sit out this school year and the tournament and ask him later when she had less matters of importance on her mind.

She looked sadly at the piece of parchment, took a deep breath and threw it in the slowly dying flames in the hearth.

It saddened her to have to do this. To have to burn the correspondence with a man who meant so much to her, but it would be too dangerous for both of them to act otherwise. If the wrong person managed to lay their hands on the letters the consequences could be most dire.

Watching the corners of the parchment get set alight and crumble inwards, reduced to little more than coal, she resolved to send a letter back tomorrow as soon as she could. She had too little family left to be able to afford losing track of one of them. Hedwig would simply have to spend a lot more time flying between them from now on.

The hot tongues of the fire were licking the last charred remains of the letter in a manner that was strangely enthralling to her eyes. Cordelia was suddenly overcome by the desire to touch the simmering sea of light before her.

Reaching out with her small hand, she let the bright flames touch her creamy pale skin. It was a bit too warm to be called comfortable per say, but when the witch pulled her hand back from the fire after a minute of relishing in the strange feeling, with a look of wonderment etched on her face, and inspected the limb there were no burn wounds to be seen aside from a subtle, pinkish decolouration of the skin, the likes she had gotten in the past when she had been able to indulge in her desire for a long and warm bath.

"Cordelia, what are you doing over there?" spoke a nervous voice near the stairway to the boys' dormitories.

The shocked girl was abruptly pulled from her fascination with the fire. She twirled around, making her silver hair, which was held in a high pony tail, fly through the air like a whip and trained her piercing gaze on the unidentified person, who had interrupted her.

She was rather confused when she saw it was Neville who was standing awkwardly at the bottom of the stairs, looking to the world as if he wanted to be anywhere but there.

"Neville! What are you doing here?" Cordelia asked softly, mindful of the late hour, furrowing her eyebrows, while she quickly cradled her tender hand to her chest. She would rather not explain to the boy what she had been up to. Especially since she didn't really understand herself. "I thought you had gone to bed ages ago?"

Neville's cheeks attained a distinctly green hue as he slowly shuffled towards where she was sitting near the lazily burning fireplace. Something which was quite frankly amazing to her eyes, as she had seen the guy fertilize almost anything with a wide grin on his face despite the stink of dragon dung permeating the air of the greenhouses. Something which made everyone else second-guess taking a second helping at dinner.

When he finally reached the couch, he started twisting his hands and stammered. "Hi Cordelia. I came back becau-, … because I wanted to ask you something."

The witch waited as long as her patience allowed her to, which was not very long apparently as she narrowed her eyes when he didn't seem inclined to continue speaking and firmly told him, "Out with it Nev. What did you want to ask me so desperately that it couldn't wait 'till tomorrow?"

The young man looked at her though he could not quite meet her eyes. "Would you like to go to the Yule Ball with me?" he blurted out before finishing so that there was no doubt about what his intentions exactly were, "As my date?"

"What", was all that Cordelia managed to offer as a reply, all coherent thought having left her the moment her mind deciphered the meaning of the words which had left Neville's mouth mere seconds before. Whatever she had been expecting, it hadn't been _that_!

Even though the ball had only been announced just a couple of days ago, in the aftermath of the First Task, Cordelia had received her fair share of proposals. Despite still being quite young, she was rather pretty to look at. That combined with the fact that she was the Girl-Who-Lived and a Triwizard Champion to booth, gained her more than a few admirers.

Because of the recent resurge in gossip about her, most seemed to be content in letting the dream of asking her out be exactly that: a dream. But a group of them persisted and asked her out all the same, much to her displeasure, as she had to find a way to let each of them down with a satisfactory excuse which was easier said than done considering the egos of some.

The few requests of some firsties were easy enough to deal with. She simply gave them a kind smile that left them slightly dazed for some reason and before long they scurried along with their friends, something that led her to believe that it had actually been some kind of dare for a game.

The most surprising one had been a Slytherin, named Theodore Nott. She had been so out of her game when he had asked her rather formally to accompany him that she had simply said "no" and made her exit before she could catch herself. It was a pity really. She thought the studious Slytherin to be rather interesting.

Fortunately Theodore, or Theo as he liked to be called, didn't seem to mind too much, as he had asked Tracey not too long afterwards. Her friend had accepted his offer, later confiding to Daphne and Cordelia that he really was a rather nice guy, despite his interest in the Dark Arts.

The fact that Neville of all people was now asking her sent alarm bells ringing in her mind. 'It is completely out of character for him to do such a thing,' she reasoned in her mind, starting to get suspicious, 'unless…'

Wanting to confirm the explanation that had formed inside her head, she simply asked him. "Did Daphne put you up to this Neville?"

Her stoic friend had been starting to get annoyed by her near continuous stream of suitors, who Tracey and she had to help fend off, whenever they were out of the safe haven that the library formed. And she _had_ offered to set her up with one of her numerous pureblood cousins more than a few times. Knowing the ins and outs of pureblood society, Cordelia would wager a guess that Neville probably was a cousin of Daphne's somewhere along the line. 'Hell. Neville and I probably are cousins as well!' she thought surprised at the odd direction her thinking had suddenly turned towards.

Neville's cheeks coloured a deep red when he heard her unintentional, harsh rebuttal. He stared at his feet and softly replied, "She told me I should be a gentleman and offer to take you." He started turning around in order to go back to bed, his broad shoulders slumping in defeat. "I should have known better than asking", he murmured.

Cordelia was sad to see how little Neville truly thought of himself, so she decided to take him up on his offer. 'It really isn't going to get any better than him really! At the very least I will be going with a friend who I can trust', she thought as she continued to deliberate the possibility of attending with him. The longer she mulled it over in her head, the more she started to appreciate the idea.

So she made up her mind and hit him on the shoulder. Hard.

"I haven't said _no_ yet you twit", she chastised him to his obvious surprise.

The young witch looked serious for a moment and asked the question that was rather important to her. "Do you really want to go to the Yule Ball with me? Or is this just because Daphne talked you into doing this?"

"I wouldn't have dared to ask you if Daphne hadn't forced me to do it", Neville confessed to her. Realizing how that came out he hurried to add, "But I really do wish to go with you! You are nice", he trailed of. Not sure of what was coming out of his mouth anymore at this point in their conversation.

Cordelia gave him a bright, happy smile. One day he would find the perfect girl for him and he would make her very lucky to have him. "Well then dear Neville, I would be honoured to attend the Yule Ball with you."

Before he could react, she leaned over and pressed her soft, full, pink lips to his still chubby cheeks, meant as a 'thank you' for digging up the courage to pose the question to her. Something she knew came not easy to him.

When she pulled back she had to stifle a giggle from erupting.

Neville appeared to be dumbstruck at what she had just done to him; eyes having widened comically and his jaw going completely slack for more than a few seconds.

Not giving him a chance to regain his composure, she wished him a goodnight in a rather chipper tone and walked towards the stairs in the direction of her dormitory.

She felt a smile tugging on her lips. 'I love it when problems solve themselves without me having to do anything! Now all I have to do is survive Daphne's lessons!'

But first a good night's rest… she was tired!

 **-x-**

The following morning, Cordelia stood up a nine and started her day with a long, hot shower, leaving the communal bathroom filled with a thick cloud of warm steam, much to Hermione's consternation when the studious witch decided to go for a wash herself.

When they were both finally done, the two Gryffindor lions headed to breakfast together to catch up on what had been going on in the other's life, something they had been unable to do so far, with all the hectic things happening around Cordelia all the time. Afterwards they would split up so that the latter girl could attend the first of her dreaded lessons with Daphne of which many would indubitably be queued to follow.

When they reached the large, open doors giving entrance to the Great Hall however, the silver-haired girl was forced to reconsider that particular schedule for her morning. She hadn't good and well set foot on the tiles of the ground floor or she was accosted by her Slytherin friends, who didn't waste any time to frogmarch her out of the entrance hall in the direction of an, at the moment, unknown destination.

"Sorry Hermione!" Cordelia called out towards her friend, who was looking very annoyed at having been left behind like that, despite their plans for the coming hours.

Hermione stiffly shrugged her shoulders and walked through the doors on her own. Cordelia sighed in annoyance; she was certain that she was going to hear that for some time to come. There really wasn't a lot she could do about it though; when Daphne and Tracey had a plan, they would quite simply refuse to deter from it. Besides, ever since their third year they had near constantly been at odds with each other about something or another, by now Cordelia was used to it.

 **-x-**

What followed was a delicious, but incredibly painful breakfast.

Daphne and Tracey had abducted her -she refused to call it anything different, even though Daphne insisted on the term 'forced compliance'- to a long since abandoned classroom on the third floor. There they had been met by a beautifully decked table, courtesy of Dobby, who had jumped on the opportunity to do something for his saviour, no matter how indirect it may have been.

Daphne had wasted none of their precious time and had begun teaching her about the dozens of different objects that were presented on their breakfast table, which was arranged for dinner, ranging from desert forks over fish knives to wineglasses and when it was deemed appropriate to use them. 'When you are hungry' was unanimously considered to be a wrong answer.

"So, let me get this straight", Cordelia tried to summarize the information she had been forced to absorb in the last hour and a half, looking slightly red on her cheeks from the effort. "I should basically just start with the utensils on the outside and work my way inwards, but the last thing I will need is on top for desert?"

She looked quite impressed with herself; Daphne though was not even near to being satisfied with that answer and impatiently motioned for her to go on with her summary.

"I also need to eat with my mouth shut, don't talk when I am chewing, keep my hands above the surface of the table at all times", she dutifully droned on, trying to remember all the tips and pieces of advice, which Daphne had insisted upon, before wearily finishing, "and wield both knife and fork while eating, never just the fork."

Now even Daphne appeared to be mostly satisfied with the young witch's progress. That didn't stop her from nudging Cordelia's back with her small hand, so that she would once again remember to sit with her back straight and ankles crossed – like a Lady. She had been forced to do this numerous times already, because as their brunch carried on, Cordelia invariably became tired and itchy resulting in her slumping down on her seat.

Feeling Daphne's elegant fingers prodding her for the umpteenth time, she gave her friend a tired glare, though there wasn't any heath in it anymore. 'I really have had enough information for one day', she thought with no small amount of desperation.

Her blonde friend was not impressed though with the looks she was receiving from her charge. "Don't give me that look, Cordy!" she reprimanded gently. "I could have made this a dry lecture, droning off fact after fact, like Professor Binns does, but instead I made sure you got a first-hand experience."

She paused for a moment, before continuing. "I even had Dobby prepare some of your favourites. Are you displeased?" she asked with a mischievous gleam in her blue eyes.

Cordelia rolled her violet orbs in exasperation, but smiled nonetheless. 'It is true after all. Though I would sooner call it bribing me with ridiculously small amounts of oh so tasty food', she silently relented.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Tracey lazing about, looking very relaxed after their lavish luncheon. The girl had long since given up on even trying to keep to the same level of decorum, which Daphne was trying to instil in Cordelia.

The next hour was spent in laughter, while the three friends were regaling each other to stories and gossiping about the latest titbits of information Tracey had been able to gather from the infamous Hogwarts grapevine.

Eventually though they were interrupted by an intricate knocking sound on the hard wooden door.

Tracey looked up from where they had been lounging against the wall, seated on transfigured cushions, and while they all got up and started straightening their robes, she yelled, "Come on in please! We're ready."

Cringing at the volume that her loud friend managed to produce from her mouth, Cordelia watched with some interest who was going to enter. She had been most curious about who exactly Daphne had enrolled into service to act as her male dance partner for her training regime, as the stoic witch had been quite secretive about the whole ordeal. All she had said on the matter was that she had managed to strike a great deal, which basically meant she had gotten everything she wanted to obtain, without having to give anything she didn't want to give in return.

The classroom door creaked slowly open on it hinges and allowed none other than Blaise Zabini entrance to the room they had claimed as their own for the day. The young Slytherin entered cautiously, taking his time to appraise the people already present in the chamber.

Smirking slightly, he raised a delicately curved eyebrow in surprise when he noticed who was inside the room, standing beside Daphne. He obviously hadn't known who exactly he was going to be dancing with either. 'At least, I hope he knows he is here to dance! You can never be too sure with Daphne…' Cordelia thought a bit worried about his presence.

"Well, well, if it isn't my three favourite snakes", Blaise broke the silence that his sudden arrival had brought onto the group of girls. "I should have known that you were doing this for Cordelia, Daphne. It all makes more sense now!"

He didn't appear to be too surprised as he offered them one of his patented charming, Italian smiles, before throwing into the group, "Well? What shall we be doing first on this beautiful day? A waltz perhaps? It is a ball we are preparing for, so that will almost certainly be the opening dance."

Daphne didn't waste any of the time they had left before noon and started ordering the group around. "Tracey, go to the gramophone and get us some music."

"A waltz, Trace! We don't need any Rock-'n-roll at the moment", she added with a suffering sigh, having seen the all too familiar gleam of imminent trouble forming in Tracey's dark blue eyes.

Setting her troublesome friend from her mind, she focussed her own icy blue orbs on the recently arrived boy in their midst and stated in a tone that halted any argument before it even started. "You and I will be giving Cordelia a demonstration on how to dance, so you better behave."

Blaise once again smirked, something Cordelia had noticed he had a habit of doing, and gave the blonde Slytherin a mocking bow from the waist.

Daphne rolled her eyes at his over the top gesture, but otherwise ignored him. She turned her head towards her charge and simply stated, "Watch and learn."

Before long Tracey had succeeded in getting the old, antique gramophone player, to work and the lovely notes of the Blue Danube were drifting through the room they had emptied after their luncheon for this exact purpose.

The silver-haired witch watched with no small amount of amazement and envy, how her friend practically floated over the stone floor; a vision of utter elegance and beauty, with a gentle smile tugging on her lips, being proof that she was quite enjoying herself in Blaise's arms.

Said boy didn't have to do under for her in the least though. Immaculately dressed in his fine silk robes, he had his hand on Daphne's waist and was confidently leading her around through the paces on the improvised dance floor, having no eyes for anyone but his dance partner.

When the last notes of the song had died down, it was Cordelia's turn. Something she had been all too pleased to avoid for a little while longer, despite the fact that she was the one who had asked her friends for the lessons in the first place.

She cautiously approached the handsome, Italian boy who had just finished thanking Daphne for the dance, by bringing her hand to his face and then kissing her knuckles softly, with a bright toothy smile on his face, looking all too pleased with himself.

"Don't worry too much about it, Cordelia. I have seen you fly on that broom of yours and I am certain that you will be just as admirable on your two feet", he tried to reassure her, after having seen the worried expression she was wearing.

The young woman could do little more than give him a hesitant smile. 'This is going to be hell', she thought starting to panic, despite the reassurances she was receiving.

Eventually though she had to concede it wasn't nearly as bad as she had dreaded, or even hoped.

Sure the first hour was spent almost entirely with Cordelia keeping Blaise at arm's length, because she needed to be able to see her feet in order to check whether or not she was still doing the right moves, much to Tracey's delight if her muted snorts were any indication. She was almost constantly making jokes about her Gryffindor friend's posture and none of Daphne's icy glares when she wasn't instructing her charge seemed to help in the least. Cordelia took it in good faith though and didn't let it get to her.

After a good while however, she finally started getting the hang of it. Eventually even roaming over the dance floor with some semblance of grace and dignity.

When the clock rung the hour, they collectively decided that they had been going on for long enough for one day. This fact would be corroborated by Cordelia's sore muscles the following day.

Blaise, the gentleman he was, kissed the young girl's hand, like he had done with Daphne before and gathered his robes, which he had discarded an hour earlier when he had grown hot from the continued exercise.

Before he could leave however, Cordelia called out to him, having been curious about something for a while now. "Say Blaise. What did Daphne bribe you with to come and help us today?"

The boy looked back and gave her a broad smile. "I asked her to be my date to the Yule Ball. It took quite a bit of time, but after some chitchat I eventually managed to get her to agree", he aimed his dark eyes on Daphne and a small frown appeared on his forehead. "Though I did have to agree to do her a small favour…" the normally confident Slytherin trailed off at that, not sure what else to say about it.

"I would have gone with him either way", Daphne lightly confided to the girls, with a smug look on her face, knowing that he could hear her loud and clear from where he was standing.

"Wha… Bu-", he spluttered in indignation; he had spent ages trying to convince the pretty blonde Slytherin after all! "Why on earth did you not just accept when I asked you then?" he finally asked, having lost all composure. "Why make me agree on this favour?"

Daphne raised her elegantly arched eyebrow and gave him a pointed look, which told him quite clearly that he should have already known the appropriate answer by now.

Seeing the look his date was giving him, he deflated somewhat and decided to just leave the girls, with some of his pride still intact. Cordelia was certain that she heard him utter something under his breath about 'stupid, cunning Slytherins', right before the heavy wooden door swung shut, sealing the room once again from the outside world.

Blinking at that interaction, Cordelia took the prudent decision to leave, before the exposure to such Slytherin cunning got to her head. "Well Daphne, Tracey, it has been fun, but I have to go", she offered as a way of goodbye to her friends. "Hermione is going to be mad at me as it stands, because of the disappearing-act you two orchestrated this morning, so I should probably go and check on her. See if I can still do some damage control."

Daphne nodded absentmindedly, but realizing what Cordelia was saying, she halted her departing friend.

"Wait a minute, Cordy!' she yelled while searching for something in her book bag, which was considerably lighter than Hermione's, despite containing a fair amount of books itself. "I have got something for you."

Cordelia watched her friend's actions with some curiosity as the blonde approached her with a beautifully crafted, silver bracelet held in her hands.

"Here, wear this", she said, amused for some reason, which Cordelia couldn't fathom at the moment, as she took Cordelia's right hand in her own and closed the piece of jewellery around her small wrist with a loud click.

The silver-haired witch was now looking at the beautiful band of silver with some suspicion. "Daphne, what in Morgana's name is this thing?"

"It is an enchanted bracelet my mother bought for me when I was learning about these things myself, when I was younger. It helped me quite a bit actually", was all the reply she got.

Cordelia patiently continued staring the Slytherin down with an inquiring look, prompting an actual explanation to follow the more cryptic one.

"Fine!" Daphne sighed in disappointment, as it would take some of the fun out of it, but gave some further explanation nonetheless. "It is a study aid that will help you to keep your posture."

Cordelia groaned loudly. 'This is going to be a joy!' she thought with a heavy dose of sarcasm.

Giving her friends a quick, final hug she swiftly departed before they could spring anymore nasty surprises on her, already having to deal with the strange feeling the bracelet was giving her, as she strode through the silent corridors of the castle.

Tracey watched her leave with a fond look on her face, which was mirrored on Daphne's. It was so like their Cordy to sometimes just suck it up and live with the annoying things of life, when she knew it would be a hopeless battle trying to change it.

"Do you think she knows that the lessons you are trying to give her in weeks, normally take years to fully complete?" she asked Daphne while they were making their way towards the Slytherin common room in the dungeons at a leisurely pace, even though she knew the answer already.

Daphne gave her black-haired girl beside her a meaningful look, her icy blue eyes speaking loud and clear for her.

"Right", she nodded, already having suspected as much.

"Are you going to tell her?" she pressed on, having seen the look Daphne gave her, but still wanting to get to the bottom of the matter.

Once again on the receiving end of one of Daphne's infamous looks, she just concluded, "Right."

 **-x-**

In the weeks that followed, leading up to the long anticipated Yule Ball, Cordelia's fears pertaining Daphne's mysterious gift were confirmed and as such she gained a healthy amount of appreciation for language and semantics

Whereas Daphne had introduced her bracelet as a useful, enchanted trinket, meant for educational purposes, the amethyst eyed girl would rather describe it as a dark, cursed object of doom. A bit on the dramatic side perhaps, but after spending a few weeks wearing it, Cordelia felt like she was more than entitled to a few exaggerations.

The most accurate way to describe functioning of the enchanted band of silver would be to say that it is the magical version of placing a heavy stack of books on someone's head in order to teach them how to keep their head and body straight at all times.

For weeks Cordelia walked around the castle from classroom to classroom with her back held ramrod straight, involuntarily grimacing every once and a while when she felt the strange sensation of something lying on her silver tresses starting to glide off, wash over her, courtesy of the bracelet, whenever she was momentarily distracted from keeping check of her posture. Never before in her entire life had she been so self-conscious about the state of her body and she was a teenage girl by Morgana's sagging tits!

Another unfortunate side-effect of the bracelet that came into play was that it would always force her to sit straight in her chair whether it was in the Great Hall, during mealtimes or when she was taking notes in classes. The latter was by far the most annoying one. Sure it was hard having to think about keeping her back hollow while at the same time having to see Ron, hunched over his plate, shovelling food at an alarming rate directly into his waiting mouth, despite the fact that it was still mostly full, but classes were even worse.

Cordelia could manage most of them perfectly fine -seeing the severe Transfiguration teacher, Professor McGonagall, during class helped quite a bit actually-, but History of Magic was truly hell. Under normal circumstances she would lay her books open in front of her, put her elbow on the table and rest her head quite comfortably on her hand, simply hoping that Hermione would be in the mood to share her notes later on, as she closed her eyes and drifted off, dreaming of being warm and cosy in front of a fireplace.

Considering the fact that the infernal bracelet was near constantly nudging her, it was literally impossible to laze about like she was used to. She was forced to do actual work during the classes. It was infuriating and seeing the smirks she received from Daphne, Tracey and even Fleur was more than proof that they knew it!

She was rather pleased to say though that Daphne was doing a marvellous job on delivering her part of their bargain. Ever since that first lesson in the abandoned classroom on Saturday, they had done something similar at least once a week; though they did decide to take breakfast in the Great Hall like normal. Cordelia had put her foot down on this matter. It was too much of a hassle to keep Hermione happy otherwise as the girl would be stuck alone with Ron, who, despite his more mature behaviour as of late, could still be quite an idiot at times, something which never failed to set the studious Gryffindor girl off.

Before long Cordelia had gotten the hang of the art of waltzing and so the group had switched to other types of dances, though at this point it was more for fun than anything else. The silver-haired witch would never have thought how nice it could be to glide over the dancefloor on the tunes of the music -even Hard Rock at Tracey's insistence-, all the while joking around with her friends, something she considered Blaise to be after all the times he had endured her stepping on his toes without uttering so much as a word in reprove.

She had noticed Daphne declining the Italian wizard's offer for a dance one week. When asked the blonde Slytherin had told the group that her feet were sore, something that had raised two pairs of dark and one pair of silver eyebrows. 'I still wonder why that could have been', Cordelia had thought, 'Or why she was glaring at me of all people when she was rubbing her feet.'

It really didn't matter in the end. The Gryffindor girl had her hands full with heaps of schoolwork, some extracurricular strays into the fascinating world of runes and enchanting, her dancing lessons, writing letters to Sirius every few days, despite Hermione's remonstrations that it was too dangerous, and Daphne introducing her to the daunting, but intriguing world of wizarding politics and subterfuge.

 **-x-**

The month December brought them the eagerly anticipated Yule Ball, an event that kicked the entirety of the school population, be they innocent first or mature seventh years, into an feverish frenzy. Even Cordelia was not unaffected by the hyperactive atmosphere and was starting to become increasingly excited about the whole ordeal, despite her initial misgivings upon learning about her forced participation in the openings dance.

The last week before the Yule Ball, in which the examinations pertaining the first semester were held, was quite a hectic one for Cordelia, Hermione and Ron. The three friends might have been growing away from each other for some time now, but if there ever was a time when waning relationships could be restored it was Christmas.

They spent most of their evenings together on their newest pet project: Ron's dress robes for the Yule Ball. It was something that they had been planning on starting a lot sooner, but other engagements, Daphne's lessons and playing Quidditch amongst others, had delayed their progress.

They had started by searching the library for some interesting tailoring spells, which they eventually found near the books Hermione had used for the creation of her home-made, knitted house elf clothes. Thanks to her prior knowledge from her previous forays in this area of spells, the bushy-haired witch made herself invaluable to their cause, as not completely understanding these spells could have disastrous side-effects, going from destroying the robes to spontaneous combustion.

Thanks to their teamwork however, they did manage to make Ron a unique set of halfway decent robes. It had taken quite a few specialised spells, cast by Hermione, the fabric of one of Ron's old school robes, which had become too small for him to continue wearing, and even the meagre sewing skills that Cordelia had picked up from having to repair old socks back at the Dursleys', but Ron would be able to attend to the Yule Ball dressed in some presentable garments.

Said boy had given his girls a hug in sincere gratitude, which was not all that surprising, considering the hideous piece of cloth they had used as their starting point, which Mrs Weasley had send him by owl.

The 25th of December, the day of the ball, Cordelia spent most of the morning and noon with her friends goofing around in the thick layer of snow that had fallen the nights before, which now covered the entirety of the grounds like a fluffy, sparkling white blanket.

She had gone out with the Weasley Clan plus Hermione and Neville, dressed with an extra layer of clothes to ward of the biting cold. She chose to do this despite the fact that ever since the dragon incident, like everyone called it these days, her senses of extreme warmth and cold had dulled somewhat, allowing her to move around quite comfortably in conditions that her friends would call harsh. 'Still, while that may be true, it is still nice to feel all warm and cosy!' Cordelia had thought when she had dressed to go out earlier.

They had started making large snowmen, aided by a few nifty transfiguration tricks, which bore a striking resemblance to Hagrid, dressed in his heavy furry cloak, when looked at from the side. Hagrid had apparently noticed the same if his cheerful waving from his little house was any indication.

When her Slytherin friends, Blaise included, joined her outside after a few hours, they decided as a group on a new activity: a two camp snowball fight, Gryffindor against Slytherin. In order to even the odds a bit, Cordelia decide to join the Slytherin side as an honorary member.

"So are the rules clear to everyone?" Cordelia shouted over the snow barricade, which Tracey had erected as a means to defend themselves against incoming, icy projectiles.

Receiving shouted agreements made her nod, though she wearily eyed the Weasley twins, who had remained suspiciously quiet during the whole setup.

"Fred? George? Did you hear me? No magic allowed and no cheating." she repeated herself once more for good measure, this time directly addressing the two troublemakers. 'You can never be too sure with those two!' she internally sighed.

Fred, or was it George, gave her an angelic smile, which somehow still managed to promise trouble on his face. "Cordelia, you wound us", he said clutching at his heart as if her words had physically wounded him.

The other freckled twin smoothly continued, wearing an impish grin on his face, "Such hypocrisy though! Accusing us of taking unfair advantages, when you yourself have perfect camouflage with that hair of yours…"

Cordelia spluttered indignantly, 'Of all things he could have said!'

Before she could give him a piece of her mind though, a wet snowball, coming from their corner, flew right into her direction. Left with no other choice, she belatedly announced the official start of the fight, "Charge!"

In hindsight it shouldn't have been much of a surprise that the two-way snowball fight quickly deteriorated into a free-for-all in which only the twins managed to continue to cooperate with each other in order to expertly nail down everyone else, who was unfortunate enough to get into their sights.

A few hours later, when the young witch was positively frozen in her wet clothes, with icy water dripping down her spine, she was interrupted from throwing a snowball at the back of Ron's head by a familiar voice. "Having fun are we?" Fleur asked her with her usual French lilt.

Cordelia twirled around to face her friend. "Hey Fleur, what are you doing here? Have you come to join us?" Cordelia greeted her friend, hoping against all odds that the proud witch would join the fight.

Fleur raised a silver eyebrow in amusement and said, "Have you forgotten the time perhaps? We were going to get ready for the ball together weren't we?"

Cordelia could hit herself as she had lost track of time and considering how she must look after such an epic snow fight, drenched in sweat, her usually messy curls even more tangled together, she would need all the time she could get to manage to look presentable come that evening.

The Gryffindor girl had wanted her first ball or even event to be something special; something she could share with her friends. Dressing up in the Gryffindor girls' dormitory with Lavender and Hermione, looking over her shoulder all the time, had seemed too impersonal, as she would rather share the experience with her Slytherin friends.

'Of course there was no way that plan would come into fruition!' she thought as she waved goodbye to her friends of whom the males were increasingly baffled by the females' need to use hours in order to get cleaned up for an event. 'A friendship between a Gryffindor and a Slytherin is… acceptable… just. Bringing said friend to the Slytherin common room is high treason.'

That is why she was walking on the snowed over path besides Fleur, heading towards the Beauxbatons carriage. When Fleur had heard about her plight, she had gracefully extended the invitation to prepare in her own quarters. Cordelia had immediately accepted, having grown very fond of the French Champion since she had arrived at Hogwarts castle.

The older witch looked at her companion, who seemed oddly distracted, in slight concern, a frown marring her beautiful face. Wanting to break the companionable silence, she voiced her concerns.

"Are you alright, Cordelia? You look tired… and those walls under your eyes will take us ages to get cleaned up", she added in a failed attempt to turn her enquiry into a joke. Cordelia rolled her eyes, but gave her friend a smile nonetheless.

'Am I alright?" she thought, kicking at a pile of loose snow, making it fly through the frozen air.

Exhaling deeply, she watched the ground in front of them intently and keeping it simple replied, "I don't know. I am just worried I guess."

When she saw that Fleur didn't look convinced she decided to just tell her friend everything. "It is this whole Triwizard thing that is driving me mad", she said throwing her arms in the air out of frustration at the situation. "But the worst part are the dreams, 'she continued not noticing Fleur's increasingly worried face, "I don't have them very often, but it is always the same one that keeps coming back to haunt me at night. All I remember really is the cold; so cold that it hurts to be there and those cruel icy eyes gleaming in the darkness."

The witch was silent for a moment, looking in the distance. "I usually end up waking up in the middle of the night, shivering in my bed; feeling cold despite the warm blankets covering me and the stove in our room", she confessed hating to be forced to admit to such weakness.

Fleur put her hand on her friend's shoulder and gave it an affectionate squeeze in support. "Well, I can't say I know of anything to help you right now," she started to say "but I will be more than happy to listen whenever you want me to."

Cordelia smiled at the French witch, grateful that she didn't press the issue, but instead gave her support and the room she needed to deal with it.

Fleur still hadn't taken her hand from the younger witch's shoulder and was no rolling the fabric of her scarf between her long, elegant fingers.

She shot Cordelia a curious glance, before once again focussing her sky-blue eyes on the fabric. "Say, Cordy, why are you wearing a green and silver scarf?" she asked, more than a little confused. "Aren't those supposed to be the colours of Slytherin house, your house's biggest rivals?"

Cordelia gave her friend a smug smile. "They are. I am wearing Daphne's scarf and she is using mine at the moment", she snorted looking quite amused with the situation. Seeing Fleur's confused expression she elaborated, "I borrowed hers a few weeks back, when I forgot mine in the dormitory and I haven't given it back yet. Not entirely sure if I am going to, to be entirely honest! I am telling you: the Slytherins' scarves are far warmer than those of any other house at Hogwarts."

The young witch looked pensive for a second, before minutely shrugging her shoulders and continuing, "I guess that makes some amount of sense, as they do live in the dungeons… the coldest part of Hogwarts. Anyway, annoying Daphne is more than worth it. She deserves it after she gave me that bracelet."

The funniest part of wearing another house's colours was most assuredly the reaction of the faculty members to it. Professor McGonagall had looked as if she had smelled something foul upon seeing Gryffindor's Golden Girl wearing green and silver, but she had quickly reversed to a more neutral expression and had so far said nothing about it.

'Maybe she has really warmed up to the idea, for the sake of school-unity and all', Cordelia thought. 'Or perhaps it is simply because she can't really do anything against it.' As it turned out the rules of conduct simply stated that a student must be dressed in the Hogwarts uniform. Wearing your own house's colours was implied.

Snape had just ignored that bit of information and had deducted points for 'not wearing the right uniform' all the same. She hadn't been surprised though. Snape had always been an ass to students, who do not belong to his own house and even more so when it came to her. After she had woken up after the First Task though, the surly git had simply become impossible whenever she was involved, taking points for whatever reason he could think of and sometimes even without one. Cordelia was rather confused about the reason behind his change in attitude, 'I would have thought that he would be pleased that I no longer look like a female clone of my father. After all, my raven-coloured hair is gone.'

 **-x-**

When they finally arrived at the carriage, Cordelia was not surprised to see it was even more spacious on the inside than it was on the outside, the tent she had slept in during the Quidditch World Championship had left her under the firm impression that size meant nothing in the Wizarding world.

After being ushered into her room, by Fleur –she probably shouldn't have been there-, she only caught a quick glimpse of her bedroom when Fleur reignited the fireplace with a quick, expertly thrown fireball produced from in between the talons she had made appear on her hand, before she was pushed in the adjacent, small bathroom, where she was ordered to wash up.

From what she had seen from the room, it was a surprisingly large space for being in a mobile structure like the carriage; one of the few perks of being senior student with excellent grades, Fleur would later explain. The walls were soft, pastel colours, accentuated with that particular tint of blue that was customary to Beauxbatons and which could as such be found all over the carriage in some way or another.

Central in the room stood a rather substantial, extremely comfortable looking four-poster bed that was made out of wood, with flower patterns intricately carved into it. To the side there was a small dresser, where an admirable collection of crèmes and soaps stood, with a stool in front of it.

The closet was slightly open and showed a series of soft, silk Beauxbatons uniforms and more importantly both her and Fleur's dresses for the ball, which Fleur had taken with her for safekeeping after they had bought it in Hogsmeade together.

The last object in the room was a small, but inviting, desk, which was filled with meticulously written notes in Fleur's elegant handwriting and some books on enchanting. Against the wall though there was no clutter to be seen. Instead Fleur had placed a framed photo down of herself and a younger silver-haired girl, who going by the fond looks the characters in the picture were giving each other and the familial resemblance they showed, must have been Gabrielle, Fleur's younger sister, whom she clearly loved dearly.

Cordelia was enjoying the possibility of taking a warm shower, losing track of time as she was wont to do, when she suddenly heard the door to the bathroom fly open with force, felt a pale hand grab hold of her slender arm and drag her out from under the running shower. She was kicked without any ceremony out of the bathroom. When she turned around to see who her assailant was, she just caught sight of the irate French witch throwing her a fluffy, white towel, muttering grumpily that 'she was taking too long', before she slammed the door shut.

'I didn't occupy the shower _that_ long! Right?' the younger witch thought to herself as she cradled the towel to her otherwise nude form.

When Fleur finally left the heavenly, warm shower herself -pot meet kettle- it was really becoming about time to start getting ready for the feast.

Cordelia smiled sadly at Fleur, when she couldn't stop herself from comparing herself with the gorgeous woman, who had just stepped out of her little bathroom, a cloud of steam billowing out of the tiny chamber behind her. She was dressed in nothing but the underwear she was going to be wearing for the ball.

The results of the comparison were quite disheartening in Cordelia's opinion. Whereas Fleur was an arrestingly beautiful woman, who promised to only grow more alluring in the future, Cordelia herself was a girl. Oh, she knew she was quite pretty herself, especially after her 'burning day', but she was exactly that: a girl. She didn't think she could hold a candle to others, like Daphne, let alone Fleur.

Said witch stopped in her tracks, letting her silver tresses, which she had been drying, fall behind her against her backside and frowned at the look which had formed on her charge's face. It was an expression she was familiar with somehow… and then it struck her.

Giving her friend a kind smile, she gently started talking. "I have seen that face before, you know. I see it every time ma petite Gabrielle compares herself with me and thinks she isn't beautiful herself."

She walked up to the younger girl and continued, locking her own sky-blue orbs with her violet ones, "And each time I tell her that she is the prettiest young girl I have ever seen and that she will grow up in her own time to become a beautiful woman in her own right, just like maman and I have."

Fleur wrapped her arm around Cordelia's narrow waist and led her to the high mirror, which stood beside the dresser, where she hugged her young friend to her side. Resting her head on Cordelia's white locks, she continued. "And I will tell you exactly the same. You are beautiful! And when you are ready I know that you will grow to be far more stunning than I will ever be", she spoke clearly, imploring her to accept the truth in her words.

Cordelia snorted quite inelegantly. "Thanks Fleur. But be real for a second. How can I possibly be prettier than you? You are a veela by Morgana's tits!" she proclaimed in exasperation.

Fleur raised her silver eyebrow at Cordelia's colourful use of language, but shrugging her shoulders, she answered nonetheless. "Have you actually looked at yourself lately?" she asked, pointing at the mirror in front of them. "If I didn't know any better I would have thought we were sisters."

Cordelia payed closer attention to their reflections and thought back at the picture of Fleur and Gabrielle, which was stood prominently on her desk. Despite the Delacour-sisters having sky-blue eyes and darker silver hair, while Cordelia sported eyes looking like dark amethyst and almost silvery-white hair, they could pose as sisters remarkably well.

Seeing Cordelia's eyes sparkle suspiciously, Fleur pulled the girl into a full hug this time, holding her tightly against her chest.

When she noticed the time on the clock however, spotting it over Cordelia's head, she pulled back. "Look at that!" she hurriedly spoke, letting her French accent become more pronounced in her haste. "We need to hurry if we want to make it to the ball, before 8 p.m. We are champions, for crying out loud, we can't be late."

Noticing Cordelia's unwillingness to move from the spot, she decided to tease the girl a little bit. "Unless you want to go to the ball dressed like this?" she asked, pretending to be serious, taking a step back and twirling around to direct attention to their current state of undress.

Cordelia squeaked and ran to the closet in order to fetch their dresses, a bright blush blooming on her face and even her chest, trying to ignore Fleur's throaty laughter, which rang through the air.

 **-x-**

Fleur having smelled blood when she saw Cordelia's reddening cheeks, pounced on the opportunity to further embarrass the girl she was so fond of and decided there and then, it was time for Cordelia to receive _the_ talk.

What Cordelia got to hear while they brushed their hair into submission, applied a minute amount of light makeup, 'to enhance the natural beauty' as Fleur put it, and put on their dresses, was not what one would call pedagogically sound.

While it was very informative on the Gryffindor's part, it was more a 'how-to'-guide than anything else, filled with tips, tricks, anecdotes and what not, which Fleur insisted would allow Cordelia to wind any guy around her finger in no time, veela or not.

Suffice to say that when they finally left their bedchamber in order to meet up with some of Fleur's friends, who were going to the castle together, Fleur was looking exceedingly self-satisfied, while Cordelia was beet red from mortification.

"So now you know everything you should, to be able to go on you first date with this Neville guy", Fleur concluded as she smoothed out the fabric of Cordelia's light grey dress, before doing the same to her own silver one, which was shimmering in the light, looking like it was made from liquid silver.

Cordelia shook her head, trying to get some of the images from her head, which Fleur's words had prompted into existence; images she did not even want to contemplate for a few more years, at least! 'Who knew veela were such flirts', Cordelia ruminated, slightly bemused with the situation despite everything. It _had_ been interesting, after all.

As they were walking, she watched her friend closely. "You do know I really don't see Neville in that way, don't you?", she asked a bit apprehensive to the French witch, who was now looking up again, heard her start to speak. "I mean I like the guy well enough, but just as a friend. Nothing beyond that."

"Was there really no one you wanted to go with rather than a friend?" Fleur asked gently, having sensed that the time for teasing was over – for now at least.

"No", came Cordelia's reply, just a tad bit too quick to be believable. Upon seeing Fleur's unbelieving smirk, she sighed, cursing herself inwardly for not yet being able to keep a straight face, like Daphne had attempted to teach her, and continued hesitantly, "Well, not exactly. Please don't ask! It is stupid."

"Oh, now you really need to tell me!" the witch said pretending to be offended that Cordelia wouldn't confide such knowledge to her. "I have told you every detail of there is to know about my past boyfriends and what you should learn from it; now you are obliged as my honorary sister to give me some juicy details back."

'Don't remind me!' Cordelia thought grumpily, cursing the images that were resurfacing in her head, though when Fleur aimed her big, blue eyes on her, she felt herself rapidly caving in. "Fine", she yelled after a few moments of enduring the awkward standstill between them, before continuing at a more reasonable tone, when she noticed some of the Beauxbatons girls staring back at them. "You remember those dreams I told you about?"

Upon receiving a decisive, affirmative nod from Fleur, she continued. "Sometimes when I fall back asleep after having one of those nightmares, I dream of a guy who looks just like me. He is…", she felt her face heat up once again, to Fleur's obvious amusement, when she finished with a soft, barely audible, "interesting."

Fleur linked her arm with Cordelia's and stepped up their pace in order to catch up with the others, who had taken a lead while they were gossiping. "Oh, dreaming about him already, are we?" she started lightly. "Well, when you finally meet him, you should really try some of those tricks I thought you."

Cordelia narrowed her eyes, but felt her rosy lips twitch nonetheless. 'She is positively evil!' she concluded in her mind. 'Though, if that's what it is like to have an older sister, I don't mind.'

 **-x-**

They entered the Great Hall together, each heading in a different direction in search of their date. Cordelia gracefully made her way, remembering all of Daphne's lessons, towards Neville, whom she had spotted next to the gargantuan doors of the Great Hall. She couldn't help but smile, when she noticed the hall fall silent when they spotted Fleur and herself arriving.

'Fleur was right', Cordelia decided, when she noticed her friends standing behind Neville. A beaming Hermione was being greeted by Viktor Krum of all people; after all this time waiting they finally knew who her mystery-date was. Ron, who was dressed in the robes they had handcrafted, was looking none too pleased with this unexpected development, though he had the presence of mind at least to focus his attention on his own date, Lavender Brown, who was happily talking his ears off.

From the corner of her eyes, she could see Fleur being greeted by an eager Roger Davis, who was looking slightly dazed already in her presence, something the older witch didn't look too pleased with, though she took it in stride, as she wouldn't let it ruin her evening. And to the side, where the stairs from the dungeons reached the ground floor, were Daphne and Tracey, being accompanied by their fellow snakes, Blaise and Theodore, both looking rather fetching in their dress robes.

'Yes, I will take things one problem at a time. It will all work out with the support of my friends - my family', she thought, smiling gently at the people in front of her.

After having greeted him, she linked her arm with Neville's, not caring one bit that soon she would be dragging an irritated and wet to the bone Daphne Greengrass out of the Black Lake, along with a frantic, young French girl. Nor that she would get involved in the fallout of a massive news storm stirred up by Rita Skeeters, who printing even more provocative lies about her. Not even that she would arrive at the finish of the Triwizard Tournament, the first out of all of her senior competitors, crashing down on the ground with Cedric's cooling body cradled in her trembling, bloody arms.

'I will manage.'

 **-x-**

 **Author Note:** If you can spare a minute of your precious time, leave a comment in the review section below. Your thoughts, ideas or even some constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated.


	5. Summer Nights

**Warning:** This is an 'a Song of Ice and Fire'-crossover, so keep in mind that this story may include, but may not be limited to: foul language, blood, gore, sexual situations, disembowelment, rape, character death, dismemberment, incest, defenestration and being burned alive.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

 **Author Note:** _Ah, the irony of writing down a chapter that takes place in a heatwave while it is actually snowing outside my window._ – That was how I was planning on hitting off my author's note, when I first started writing this chapter. Suffice to say it has been a while.

The good news is that the chapter turned out to be longer than expected. The bad news is that because it was shaping up to be a ridiculously long chapter, what with all the ideas I had, I decided to split it in two. Unfortunately most of the interesting exposition will be in the next chapter, which leaves this one as a bit of a filler. Very enjoyable filler though!

 **-x-**

Chapter Five: Summer Nights

 **-x-**

She lazily blinked with her mesmerizing violet eyes, trying to get rid of the lethargy that had suddenly crashed into her being like an unstoppable wave, which made her limbs feel like they were held back by heavy, lead shackles.

The first thing to take note of that came into her line of sight as she raised her head with slow, deliberate movements, were the dull, never-ending grey, clouds swirling all around her as if following a lazy choreography, unknown and unseen by anyone but the dense mist.

She blinked once again, this time focussing her heavy eyes on the horizon, trying to discern the furthest thing she could see. She was quickly disavowed from this fruitless endeavour however. The clouds simply morphed into one homogenous black plane at the edges of her vision, seemingly sucking in every shred of light there was in this place. The world appeared to just coalescence into nothingness.

She had been so absorbed by her earlier observations that she had failed to take notice of a dark shadow, splitting off from its shady, ever changing environment and slowly gravitating towards her.

When she felt a soft nudge against her side, her head snapped up in shocked surprise.

Her first impression was that two silvery-grey orbs, floating in thin air, looked back at her with an emotion she could not quite place. Not even a second later though, she had to revise that idea, as two rows of glittering teeth, flashing despite the distinctive lack of light, were revealed under the expressive eyes. It was only then that she could distinguish the raven black fur of the wolf-like creature resting beside her from the twirling clouds, which embraced its body nigh completely.

Her first reaction –to freeze and play dead- was unnecessary when it rapidly became apparent that the massive wolf presented no danger to her physical well-being. Quite the opposite actually! The creature's eyes were full of concern when it brought its furry head closer to her own, nudging her gently into action with its wet nose, tickling her cheek in the process.

She decided that she had been lazing about in this hellish pit of dark nothingness for too long already and made to start getting up. A soft groan managed to escape her lips when she felt the muscles in her back resist the planned change of position, from where she lay on the cold stone floor.

Finally she stood upright once again though, to the apparent pleasure of the dire wolf beside her. The beast was jumping up and down happily around her, barking every couple of moments to remain the unquestioned centre of her attention.

She shook her head in exasperation, her violet eyes tracking his movements as he played around. "You silly wolf!" came the soft reprimand, though that didn't stop her from kneeling down on the ice cold floor in order to scratch the overexcited animal behind its ears. Something that earned her a face covered with warm, wet saliva, when the wolf licked her in gratitude.

"Ugh! Did you really have to do that?" she asked, jumping upright out of reach of any more such surprises that might come.

The massive dire wolf stayed put, unperturbed by her sudden reaction and cocked its head to the side, as if asking what she had expected!

"Right, no answer. Of course not, you are a wolf", she grumbled in irritation, trying to remove all the stickiness from her face. "Can you at least make yourself useful and find me a way out of here?"

The wolf's ears perked up upon hearing that, clambered to its feet and swiftly took off towards the nebulous darkness in one seemingly random direction, stopping every once in a while to make a fair attempt at catching its own wiggling tail.

'I will take that as a yes', she thought, silently thanking whatever had sent her her new companion to get her out of this miserable place. Not wasting anymore time, she set off and followed the dark shadow of the wolf in front of her.

A little while later –it may have been minutes or even hours- she was startled out of her observations of the canine when she heard him let out a loud bark to catch her attention.

Pushing the newly acquired knowledge back, namely that the wolf looked unhealthy and was quite literally skin over bones, despite the spring in his step and his happy demeanour, she looked up and noticed that her surroundings had drastically changed somewhere along the line when she wasn't paying attention. She could not even fathom when though. The utter lack of spatial and temporal indicators, combined with her erratic thought process had made sure of that.

All around her were rows upon rows of star-like objects. Big or small, bright or dim, all were shining in varying shades of colour, giving the impression that she was somehow wandering through a star-filled night sky. She let out a startled, little noise, between a gasp and a laugh, before continuing her journey. "What is this place?" she softly murmured, all the while gazing intently at the spectacular mirage all around her.

A closer look revealed that the star-like objects were in fact glass spheres lying on actual, solid, ebony shelves, something she had missed the first time, due to the permeating darkness of the world around her.

While she was looking around, neck straining as she tried to get a glimpse of even the lights high up in the sky, she forgot to pay due attention to what was happening behind her back, so she was rudely awakened from her wonderment and musings when she heard a loud, whining noise.

Twirling around on the heels of her feet, she turned just in time to see a second dire wolf, equally as dark and malnourished looking, though smaller and somehow more feminine in stature, sink its fangs deep into her wolf's vulnerable neck.

"No!" she exclaimed before she could stop herself, shocked at the sudden turn of events, lifting her arm towards her companion in a helpless gesture.

The newly arrived beast dropped its victim on the ground, where it remained laying still, whimpering slightly in pain, his lifeblood rapidly leaving his body, forming a dark red puddle on the smooth surface of the floor.

She had been wrong.

This monster was nothing like her wolf. Its mouth was stained with dripping wet blood. It snarled at her, fangs bared, frothing in unbridled rage, posture hunched together in order to jump at her, to tear her own slender neck open at a moment's notice. Her eyes found the beast's violet ones, which were shining with a mad glint, something that disturbed her to her bones.

Not being able to bear the sight in front of her, her eyes flicked downwards, towards her friend who was now laying completely still, moving no more. His grey eyes glazed over by death's embrace.

It was difficult to comprehend, but slowly the realisation of her companion's death dawned upon her, hitting her like a brick wall and she felt something deep inside of her break to smithereens. She felt an ancient lust for blood wash over her. Rage taking over every single part that made up her being, making her forget who she was.

Rearing up on her feet, she let out a mighty roar, which reverberated from deep within her body. She unfurled a massive set of scaled, leathery, red wings on either side of her. She idly wondered that that was where her slender arms should have been located, but she discarded the thought as being irrelevant. Her mind was encompassed by one thing only: _revenge_.

She jumped towards the violet-eyed monster, which desperately scrambled to get away from her, but soon quieted down, when she sank her own fangs deep into its pulsing neck, relishing in the warmth of the blood and the carnage she was inflicting.

 **-x-**

With a gasp Cordelia Potter woke from her dream. Her violet eyes were wide open as they wildly searched the darkness above her bed for any sign of an imminent threat that she would not be able to find on the dusty ceiling. She lifted one of her trembling hands, the skin almost luminescent against the darkness of the early morning, and ran it across her forehead, swiping away the cold sweat that had accumulated.

She was gasping for breath, chest heaving, trying to calm her rapidly beating heart, as she violently shivered under the blankets on her bed, despite the heat wave that had been wrecking Private Drive for days on end now.

Getting herself under control once again, she pushed the moist blanket to the end of her bed, sat up and swung her legs out onto the floor in the same movement.

'It was not real', she tried to convince herself over and over again, 'It was not real. It was just a bad dream… no big deal.' Sighing deeply, the witch dropped her head in her hands, her silver tresses falling around her, as if to shield her from the dangers of the outside world.

Shaking her head, she called herself back to business, 'It will do me no good whatsoever to just sit here.' She stood up from her spot and carefully made her way towards the dingy desk against the windowsill. It was filled to the very edge with school books, big dusty tomes, pieces of parchment filled with notes in her own neat handwriting and a small mountain of slightly crumbled letters, which she had received from her friends over the past few weeks.

Frustrated with the mess she had no interest in dealing with, she wiped it all off the surface with one aggressive move of her arm, making it all fall in a disorderly heap on the wooden floor of her room.

'Merlin, Cordelia, pull yourself together!' she admonished herself for her insolent behaviour, closing her peculiar eyes and rubbing them tiredly with one hand, while supporting her shaking frame with the other. The emotions she had experienced earlier –the rage and the bloodlust-, combined with the fatigue of another night of interrupted sleep, were still clouding her mind and emotions. She could still feel it. _Herself_. Sinking her teeth into the supple flesh of the second wolf. She could almost taste the warm blood pulsing through the beast's body on the tip of her own tongue.

She sat down at her desk, on the surprisingly comfortable swivel chair and crossed her legs under her bum to get even more comfortable, despite the many reprimands and choice words Daphne would send her way if she ever found out about her bad posture. The young woman reached for a small, leather-bound, inconspicuous-looking notebook, ruffled through the pages until she found a new blank one and with a deep, suffering sigh started writing down her newest dream, filling it with all the details she could remember no matter how insignificant they might appear.

As she was working on her new, self-appointed task, Cordelia couldn't help but let her mind wander towards all the other times she had sat here doing the exact same thing.

Ever since her wondrous transformation, she had been having dreams - visions really. She could not change when she had them. Sometimes she would wake up desperately gasping for breath mere minutes after she had closed her eyes for the night. Other times she would just wake up in the morning, like any normal person, simply knowing that she'd had one of her 'dreams'.

She was never sure what she would get to see either; whether it was a dream with perfectly clear meaning or instead a confusing mess of images with seemingly no rhyme or reason to it, like today, of which she simply knew there was some kind of deeper meaning to it. Something only time would be able to tell, unfortunately.

Even today's dream, while she was dutifully writing it down, was slipping through her fingers as if she was trying to hold on to water with her bare hands. Details were already missing and whole parts, she had lived through not even two minutes ago while she was asleep, were now nothing but hazy recollections at best. Hence why she was recording everything she _could_ remember in her little, black notebook.

It had been Ron, surprisingly enough, who had come up with the idea on how she could deal with the nightmares that wreaked havoc in her sleep most days of the week. The fact that it had been Ron who had suggested this remedy and that it actually seemed to help, which was arguably even worse, was a great eyesore to Hermione, who could not believe that Ronald, who possessed the emotional range of a teaspoon, had such a good idea.

Cordelia couldn't help the small smile that tugged at the corner of her rosy lips, when she thought back at the witch's reaction. Her bushy-haired friend could not stop her disbelief at the fact that she would actually be employing the dream-diary taught in Divination. 'Of course I wouldn't use the stupid handbook to try and divine potential meanings of my visions,' Cordelia scoffed at the mere thought, 'but at least this way I can try to forget them afterwards.'

It was almost therapeutic to get the nightmares that featured Cedric dying over and over again in the graveyard, the strange insights into the Dark Lord's mind, the dreams about frozen blue eyes and the death they bring, and the gibberish, symbolic visions off her chest.

When Cordelia was finally done penning down every last detail she could grasp with her searching mind, which took a considerable amount of time, the young woman leant back tiredly and stretched her limbs in an almost catlike manner, trying to get rid of the stiffness in her sore muscles.

Her violet eyes suddenly caught sight of the mess she had made earlier with her frantic behaviour. She gently put the framed photos back upright on their designated spots on the corner of her desk.

The eldest photo was one of her deceased parents, Lily and James, happily waltzing around on a tune only they could still hear; their smiling faces looking back at her. The silver-haired witch softly stroked the class covering their image and couldn't stop herself from longing, 'I hope I will find someone to share my days with too! Someone to hold me, who can tell me everything is going to be alright.' Of course her treacherous mind quite unhelpfully provided the image she had dreamt about more often than she would like to admit: a gently smiling youth only a few years older than her, standing tall for his age, with broad shoulders, silky looking white hair and enchanting amethyst eyes.

Fighting the heat that rose to her face, Cordelia focussed her mind on the second photo, which was no less important to her, despite being more recent. It portrayed five women standing in front of the Black Lake. It was taken by Colin Creevey not long after she had been discharged by Madame Pomfrey after she had rescued the hostages during the Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament. All five women were smiling at the lens and the whole scene exuded merriment and laughter. All five women also happened to be soaked right to the bone.

Cordelia and Fleur were standing next to each other dressed in matching blue swimsuits. Cordelia had been rather sceptic when Fleur offered her the use of her own swimwear, she had planned to just wear her normal robes after all, but in the end she had acquiesced. While she had not liked the show she had unwittingly given the spectators on the shore by wearing such a revealing piece of clothing, the fact that she did not have to worry about the water resistance against the tight one piece, which she would have with the baggy robe, made the whole ordeal worth it.

Fleur had her hands resting on Gabrielle's shoulders, her little sister. The young girl looked like a spitting image of her older sister and Cordelia fit in perfectly besides them. The young witch was dressed in the same clothes she had worn when she had been 'kidnapped', though it was hard to see on the picture, as she was wrapped in a huge, red towel that had seemingly swallowed her from head to toe. Gabrielle was smiling happily in her big sister's embrace.

Next to Cordelia stood her own hostage, Daphne Greengrass. The blonde woman looked disgruntled at having been dunked into a frozen lake for the amusement of the masses. The slight smirk she wore told a completely different story though. Cordelia smiled softly when she noticed herself and Daphne huddled together on the photo, under a single towel, which was oddly enough smaller than Gabrielle's.

The last person featured in the picture was Tracey, who should have been dry by all accounts, considering she had been a mere spectator in the proceedings. When the dark-haired witch had been a bit too happy about Daphne's misfortune and when she told the blonde that she looked like a disgruntled cat standing there with her long, blonde hair in messy, wet strands, the latter had promptly decided to push Tracey in the Black Lake for good measure.

The picture was taken mere moments after Tracey had managed to crawl out of the freezing water and get back on her feet. Which incidentally explained why the Tracey in the picture pouted every once in a while, trying to get some piece of the towel, why Daphne had a suspiciously smug look on her face and why little Gabby was having a fit of giggles.

Cordelia's eyes were bright as she relived the joyous memory. It truly had been amazing to be there with her dear friends.

Looking at her belongings on the wooden floor, which still required her attention, the silver-haired witch briefly considered calling for Dobby and asking him to do the cleaning for her instead, but after a few moments she eventually decided against it. The elf did too much for her already; it wouldn't do to add even more on his plate when she could easily deal with it herself… especially when she was the one to cause the avoidable mess in the first place.

Cordelia wasn't entirely sure how exactly Dobby had gotten into her service. In late fall he was aiding her Slytherin friends for her in making delicious brunches, by spring he personally took care to ensure all of her clothes were clean and ironed, leaving them as good as new at the back end of her bed, with a piece of chocolate resting on her pillow, and now … well, the witch supposed he was in her employment fulltime by now. They had not spoken any vows or anything of the sort, but Dobby acted as if he was _her_ elf.

The silver-haired witch had simply shrugged at her observations. In the end it didn't matter. Not really. Dobby appeared to be happier than she had ever seen him, which was quite telling considering his exuberant self, and she would never mistreat the little guy. Besides, Dobby had been a huge help to her during the past summer month, taking over all the chores around the house that she normally would be forced to do for the Dursleys.

Aunt Petunia was more than a bit suspicious of course! Every morning the previous day's laundry magically appeared freshly ironed in their closets. The floor was squeaky clean. The windows were gleaming. The prized rosebushes in the garden stood lush and green despite the heat of the ongoing heatwave. And to top it off, the rooms were surprisingly moderate in temperature despite the house not having any air-conditioning.

Despite all the odd things that were happening on a daily basis ever since her niece had returned from her fourth year at Hogwarts, there was little aunt Petunia could do about it. She could never catch anyone doing anything and at the end of the day every singly chore she could imagine, no matter how time-consuming, was meticulously executed… by Dobby.

The end result was that Cordelia, for the first time in her life, had all the time she could possibly need during the summer to dedicate to her studies. Hence why her desk had been so stuffed with all sorts of affairs, which she had busied herself with at some point.

Gathering her letters was perhaps the most time-consuming work. She had to briefly skim over every individual piece of parchment to ensure they all were sorted into the right neat stack, where they belonged. Letters from Hermione that were next to useless considering how vague and meaningless they were. Ron's that were only marginally better, though he was rather enthusiastic about some project he was working on under the guidance of the twins.

In her letters Tracey appeared to be intent on giving her a day to day log of her trip with her family to Belgium where the ICW had its headquarters. Her latest anecdote was about her father not letting her taste their beers in a local pub. She hadn't seemed too put out about it though, which might have had something to do with her favourite, elder brother promising to help her.

The majority of the letters however came from Daphne. The blonde woman regaled her with tales about her adventures in Rome, the eternal city, gave her advice on how to deal with everything going south in her life and she happened to be Cordelia's sole venue of intelligence on the subject of the return of the Dark Lord. The other witch didn't know all that much herself, but she was able to glean some interesting titbits of information from her father and grandfather who were involved in the inner workings of the Ministry of Magic.

One of the first things Cordelia had asked for, when she left Hogwarts for the summer holidays, was for Daphne to provide her with some useful books, which could help her to learn self-defence. She knew it was a decision made in slight hysterics, as she would often dream about Cedric's unfortunate death, but that didn't mean it didn't yield any results. Considering the fact that she had finished her work for the summer after a week and a few days, Daphne had obliged and had sent a heavy package, carried by two regal owls, her way.

When Cordelia had unwrapped the correspondence, she had found books on basic duelling strategies, others filled with handy defensive spells, some with more arcane enchantments and even a nasty-looking, black book filled with curses. Daphne had all but begged her in the accompanying letter to be careful with what she did with the latter book. Honestly, who did she think she was? An amateur?

Once more satisfied with the state of her desk, she walked over to the small closet in the corner of her room. Throwing the doors wide open, Cordelia smirked slightly, rolling her violet eyes in amused disbelief. 'I really have to stop thinking my friends won't go overboard, when I ask them to do something for me!'

The closet she was standing in front of, was filled with her new wardrobe, courtesy of none other than Fleur Delacour. The French witch had taken note of her friend's noticeable growth during the last few month's they had spent together and had taken it on herself to renew her entire wardrobe, saying in her letter that she ' _had to get rid of these 'orrible cast-offs_ '.

Cordelia had sent Dobby to deliver a letter to the Delacours' chateau in France mere days after she had arrived at Private Drive and the elf had returned to his mistress dressed in a neatly pressed, white, silken cushion slope, a heated blush burning on his cheeks and his spindly arms filled with boxes and bags from every clothes shop Paris' magical and muggle shopping district had to offer.

The young woman had to admit: she'd had more fun than she would have ever thought unpacking _her_ new clothes and trying them on. Fleur had thought of everything: shirts, pants, robes –both casual and formal-, sleepwear and underwear. The latter category included a bright red, lacy pair of panties that Cordelia had tried on once in an act of bravery and had afterwards ostentatiously banished to the back of her socks drawer, along with the matching bra, until she was older… much older.

Slipping out of the thin sleeping dress she wore for bed, she softly called for her faithful elf, "Dobby, do you have a moment?"

With an almost silent pop the house elf appeared. "Mistress Cordelia Madam!" he exclaimed in a chirpy voice despite the early hour. "What can Dobby be doing for you today?"

Cordelia threw a look over her shoulder and graced him with a smile. He wouldn't see it though, as he had covered his bulbous eyes with his gnarly hands in order to preserve his mistress' modesty. "Could you please ask my cousin to meet me downstairs for our jogging session? I am leaving in five minutes, with or without him, so tell him to hurry up", she asked the elf who was already nodding, ears flapping around.

"Dobby can do that", the elf said with a grin.

The silver-haired witch rolled her eyes and softly admonished him, "Do it gently Dobby. I am starting to grow fond of him."

"Dobby is always gentle", the excited elf returned before dismissing himself and disappearing from her vicinity with a snap from his fingers.

"Gentle my ass", Cordelia muttered, shaking her head in disbelief, returning her attention back to the closet. She grabbed around for a pair of panties and her sports bra, something she had been rather smug about and even today, a few weeks later, she was still quite pleased that she had finally started growing in the chest area, as it had been something she was quite self-conscious about, despite the continuous reassurances of Fleur.

Completing her outfit with a pair of short running shorts and one of her Gryffindor quidditch jerseys she was ready to start the day and forget about her night-time misfortune.

Looking at her reflection in the mirror in the door, she pondered about this new habit of hers.

It had begun as a way to lose some pent-up energy, which was desperately needed, considering she was cooped up in her bedroom almost the entirety of the day. Her cousin Dudley on the other hand started coming along with her, because he had to do some exercises in order to fit into his school uniform. The fat lump was unable to find any distributors who sold the blazers in his current size.

At first Cordelia had been quite miffed at having to bring the annoying oaf with her, but after they had spent some time together not fighting constantly and actually trying to have a normal conversation she had gotten somewhat used to him. In all honesty, it was a pretty nice experience to share something normal with her cousin.

The early hour had an entirely different explanation. For one her nightmares caused her to be awake at the most unfortunate hours and she liked to run her worries off after having one. It also helped that the temperature was more manageable this early in the morning – not that she was inconvenienced by it in any way, but it was soothing nonetheless.

An additional benefit was that it helped her avoid the judgemental stares from the neighbours who lived down the street, who had been gossiping incessantly all summer about her weird looks and her most 'inappropriate' choice of clothing for a girl – even if she was a felon and as such a lost cause.

When Cordelia walked past Dudley's bedroom door on her way down to the kitchen and heard him arguing in a sleepy voice with an adamant house elf, who was trying to force him to leave his warm, cosy bed in his nicely cooled room, she suddenly remembered the fourth reason. 'It is quite fun to annoy Dudley and this gives me the perfect excuse.'

As she put her right sneaker-clad foot on the bottom stair a modest shock wave ran through the house, accompanied by a loud thump and the sound of someone cursing loudly, using more profanities than she herself knew.

The witch smiled brightly and practically sang, despite there being no one to hear it, "Yes, dear old Dudders is going to be quite vexed with me!"

 **-x-**

Cordelia Potter was _not_ amused, not even the least!

It had been four days now!

Four days since she had gone for her usual, invigorating morning run with her grumbling, irritated cousin, after he had 'accidentally' fallen out of his bed. Four days since they had been ambushed by two bloody dementors in the fire escape not even ten minutes into their training exercise.

So yes, Cordelia Potter was one angry witch as she sat behind her desk, trying to read a book she had received from Daphne as a souvenir, in an attempt to keep herself busy, but more importantly: remain calm and not do any stupid stuff!

She had sent Hedwig with letters addressed to Ron and Hermione, in an attempt to try and find out what in Merlin's name was happening in the world outside Privet Drive. So far she had not received a single answer; not even from Ronald, who had seemed to be far more comfortable bending the rules and sharing some of his knowledge than their bushy-haired friend, who even after all their time together was still a stickler for the rules.

She had also sent a letter to Daphne, this one carried by Dobby, as she had many times by now, and while her reply was swift and practical it seemed… hesitant in a way she couldn't quite comprehend. Cordelia didn't know what to think anymore, 'Why would she be hesitant of all things? Dobby knows how to keep our correspondence safe.'

Over the past four days she had received some updates though. Daphne's grandfather, who was the current Lord Greengrass and the patriarch of their family, was a member of the Wizengamot and had been able to attain some useful information, like the day her case would be processed. If all went well, the violet-eyed woman would just have to pay a visit to Amelia Bones' office where she would be able to defend herself and clarify what happened a few days ago.

The elder Greengrass had warned her though that chances were slim that the Minister would let her get off so easily, considering his rather swift decision to break her wand, which she had read four days ago in the first, automatic letter of the Improper Use of Magic department. Therefor he had written to his family's solicitor explaining her predicament on her behalf.

She had received a thick package delivered by a regal looking eagle owl, containing extracts of all the relevant laws pertaining the case and advice on how to navigate anything they could try on her. Cordelia had been rather confused at first on why he couldn't just come with her, but apparently it would be bad form to attend an underage-magic hearing accompanied by a solicitor – something about it making her look guilty. Bottom line was that Cordelia would be on her own that day.

Daphne had sent her another package, containing an expensive looking, formal robe, made from dark green fabric with linings of pure silver thread. The accompanying letter had read that she had it ordered at Twilfitt and Tattings, a high-end clothes shop in Diagon Alley, in order for her to make a good first impression on the people whom she would be dealing with and to remind them that 'she is a daughter of House Black'.

It was heart-warming to know that at the very least her Slytherin friend was worried about her wellbeing.

That was how she was sat behind her desk the evening the Dursleys had left for some garden competition, silently fuming at the injustice of the entire situation, when she all of a sudden heard something crashing loudly against the tiled floor downstairs.

Her silver head snapped up from the page she was reading, her eyes wide open in shocked consternation. 'What was that?' she wondered, looking idly in the direction of the noise, trying to figure out the source of the interruption, despite there being a solid floor preventing her from doing so.

"Dobby?" she whispered worriedly into the once again silent night.

The elf popped into existence and Cordelia was immensely relieved that she'd had the presence of mind to make sure that the exuberant elf kept the noise down when apparating inside. Quickly clasping her small hand over his mouth, in order to stop the customary greeting, she quickly hissed under her breath, "Be quiet! Have the Dursleys come back early? I heard a noise."

Dobby silently shook his head, wringing his hands at her serious disposition.

The witch sighed, before offering him an apologetic smile. "Could you go downstairs and have a look? It is probably nothing, but with everything that has been going on around here lately I don't want to take any chances", she asked, hoping that it was nothing and that she was just being paranoid.

The elf nodded at her request and popped away to do as ordered. Cordelia sneaked around her room to find her father's invisibility cloak and donned it over her thin sleeping dress, leaving the hood down so that Dobby would be able to find her when he finally returned.

Awaiting his reply, she went back to her working desk to continue reading the book she had abandoned, though her eyes never moved and she kept her wand tightly gripped in her hand the entire time, ready to cast at the slightest notice.

Despite her current lack zeal to continue her studies, it was an intriguing and rare book, detailing the rise of the Roman Empire at the hand of the Roman wizards, who were the first to wield wands, which was one of their most ingenious innovations.

After all, bearing a wand was far more versatile than the bulky, inconvenient –albeit more powerful- staffs the indigenous population favoured up until then. Wands were considerably less powerful, but they were easier and faster to master than the arcane magic the druids of the era used to employ. Those rituals had the additional handicap of requiring dozens of mages to chant together in order to come to their full potential and even then it was hard to get the effects to take hold on ever moving targets, like enemies.

The book meticulously explained how the Roman wand, the secret to their success, eventually spread throughout the lands the Romans conquered and was adapted by those who saw how effective it was on –and off- the battlefield and who wished to defend themselves against it.

The end result was that by the time the destined fall of the Roman Empire finally came around, the world had all but abandoned the arduous study of arcane magic and instead focussed on spellcasting, which yielded immediate and easy results.

Reading the book had left Cordelia with a burning desire to delve into some of these forgotten arts, like enchantments, curses, rituals and above all the notorious field of blood magic. It was too bad though that most of these disciplines, which seemed intriguing to her, were considered Dark by today's increased standards or near enough and as such heavily frowned upon by the general populace.

Her right hand shot up when she heard a crack beside her, holly wand at the ready, though she almost immediately lowered it again when she realised it was just Dobby returning from his reconnaissance mission. "What is going on down there Dobby? Is it the Death Eaters?" she asked with urgency lacing her voice, kneeling down to the elf's level to stare imploringly in his large, bulbous eyes.

"Dobby saw almost a dozen people in the kitchen talking amongst themselves, Mistress, but Dobby doesn't think they are being the servants of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named", the elf replied, nervously twisting his long ears in his hands.

Cordelia nodded slowly and stood up with her back straight, mulling over the newly acquired information.

"Alright", she eventually said, looking her house elf in his eyes, "I will be going downstairs myself, to see what is going on. Make sure you are ready to get us both out of there, should things go awry. Just in case - you never know what might happen."

Having decided on her strategy, she pulled the hood of her invisibility cloak over her head, ruffling her silver tresses in the process. It rendered her completely invisible though and with her heart beating rapidly in her chest she started her descend down to the unknown intruders.

Cringing when the bottom stair creaked ever so slightly under her weight, slight as it may be, Cordelia turned the corner, past the broom cupboard –her old room- and sneaked her way towards aunt Petunia's spotless kitchen where the murmuring voices were emanating from.

Standing in the door opening, she stopped and regarded the odd scene in front of her, which was illuminated by the moonlight shining through the large windows looking out on the little garden. She could clearly see why Dobby didn't believe them to be Death Eaters. They simply did not show the menacing aura most of the Dark Lord's servants seemed to possess. Instead they looked like a bunch of misfits, randomly gathered from all walks of life and thrown together to make this band.

With widening eyes, she came to the startled realisation that she recognized two of her Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers from the previous schoolyears: Professors Lupin and Moody. Or at least that was what she thought them to be; if there was one thing that the imposter who had impersonated Mad-eye Moody had taught her, it was that looks could be deceiving.

She was dead certain about one thing though: the Moody-lookalike in this room was gazing straight at her with both of his eyes, giving her his undivided attention, which should not have been remotely possible considering she was wearing the cloak.

"Show yourself lass!" he spoke gruffly, though not unkindly.

Cordelia minutely shrugged her shoulders. 'The potion has already boiled over; no need to mourn the spills', she thought wryly, while at the same time lowering the delicate, liquid-like hood, making her presence known to the others present in the tiny kitchen, who had silenced themselves and had tuned their curious gazes towards Moody, when he had interrupted the conversation.

Professor Lupin's tired face brightened considerably when he noticed her pale face floating in the air, with a glimpse of her body visible underneath.

"Ah, Cordelia, good to see you on this fine evening. It has been too long", he spoke in his characteristically slightly hoarse voice, looking older and more dishevelled than she remembered him to be, "I dare say you will be overjoyed to hear that we have come tonight to bust you out of this wrecked place. It is about time you saw your friends again and I believe that Sirius needs to urgently have a conversation with you about something or another."

Despite the rising pleasure at the thought of having an opportunity to meet her godfather again in the near future, the silver-haired witch's pale face tightened upon hearing the werewolf talk about her friends, the mere mention of them reminding her of their noticeable lack of letters this summer.

Moody sharply turned towards the werewolf standing contentedly beside him and heatedly demanded in a tone that was meant to keep her out of the conversation, "Should we not first ascertain this _is_ Cordelia Potter, the person we are supposed to bring back. It wouldn't do for us to take a Death Eater in disguise to Headquarters. That could jeopardise our entire mission!"

Lupin stared at the grizzled auror in slight disbelief, but eventually relented under his unwavering gaze and cast Cordelia an apologetic look, showing her they wouldn't be going through such tedious procedures if it had been up to him to decide. "Right then. Could you tell me what sort of animal your patronus becomes when you cast the spell?"

At this point Cordelia had narrowed her violet eyes dangerously, rosy lips pressed together into a thin line, her temper flaring up after all that had occurred. 'I have sat here for four days straight and I didn't get so much as a singly message explaining anything to me and now they think it is a good idea to just barge into a muggle home? And on top of that they require _me_ to identify myself', she thought incredulously.

Raising a delicately curved, ashen eyebrow, she squared her shoulders and haughtily stared down her nose upon her visitors. "My patronus takes on the form of a stag. Exactly the same animal as it has been ever since you taught me in third year, Professor Lupin - if you insist to know", she spoke in a prim voice, though there was no way to deny the bite underneath it, "Though I am not entirely sure what that is supposed to prove exactly, considering I have used the patronus charm just four days ago and that information could easily be extracted from my cousin, Dudley, or even Mrs Figg, my defenceless neighbour who lives down the street."

"Speaking of which", she continued, gaining even more momentum as she just realised something important, "Mrs Figg told me that it was planned for there to be guards keeping an eye on me the entire summer, so shouldn't you already know whether someone tried and succeeded in invading my home and kidnapping me?"

Most of the group wore sheepish looks at being reminded of their secret guard duties, though the most surprising reaction was Professor Moody's. The old auror let out a few deep chuckles. "Easy there, lass! No need to bite my nose of – what is left of it anyway", he laughed, looking at her with his one remaining, natural eye, his spinning one focussed on something else behind his back. "I would have thought I taught you one lesson: _constant vigilance_! Don't want to make any more mistakes than we already have, do we?"

"Speaking of mistakes", he said in a more serious tone, "Tell that elf over there to put that knife down, before he gets himself hurt."

Cordelia looked confused for a moment, watching the clear air behind the auror, but quickly caught on to what he was saying. "It's alright Dobby. You can show yourself", she called out.

Behind the fidgeting crowd, at the exact spot Alastor's electric blue eye had been staring at, Dobby became visible to the naked eye, holding the largest meat knife the Dursleys owned in his hands like a sword, making his spindly arms shake from the weight.

A snap of his long fingers later the knife was back stored in its rightful place and Dobby stood by Cordelia's legs looking with apparent interest at the proceedings.

"Right", the young witch said slowly, trying to wrap her mind around all the new developments, "What is the plan from this point forward?"

Professor Lupin answered for the group. "Once you have packed your trunk, we will be flying by broom to Headquarters, which will act as your new home for the time being."

"Flying? By broom?" Cordelia repeated in disbelief, questioning whether she had heard that right. "Isn't there a better way-"

"You know what. Never mind", she interrupted herself, releasing a suffering sigh and rubbing her tired eyes, trying to relieve the mounting headache she was experiencing. She may not have inherited her father's poor eyesight, but her vision did strain when she'd had a long, tiresome, arduous day.

"I will be packing my stuff and change in a more appropriate attire for late night flying endeavours", she succinctly said, once more looking haughtily down on the crowd. She had gotten rather self-conscious about the fact that she stood in front of a group of near strangers, dressed in a sleeping dress that was far too revealing for her liking.

She nodded her head once to herself in agreement and spun on her feet, making her silvery hair fly behind her like a silver sea, narrowly missing the old auror.

When she rounded the corner, Remus fondly shook his head, remembering the many times Lily had shown her temperament whenever James did something which she considered foolish or stupid or both. "Teenagers!" he said at the exact same time he heard Tonks, who was standing behind him mutter, "Purebloods!"

The marauder looked over his shoulder in amusement at the metamorphmagus, who was holding a strand of her hair in her hand and was trying to replicate the shimmering silver effect Cordelia's hair had in the light of the moon.

The young auror gave up when she couldn't get it quite right and noticed his amused expression aimed at her. "What?" she defended herself slightly affronted, before shrugging her shoulders. "That is exactly how my mum looks at me or dad when we mess something up. She can be one scary woman if she wants to be."

Professor Lupin could only agree with that statement, looking back at the place where the Gryffindor girl had disappeared from their sight. "Yes, she is quite the lady, isn't she?"

 **-x-**

After a long and tiresome journey, which had started well enough, satisfying Cordelia's desire to soar through the sky once again and experience the freedom it offered her, but soon turned something straight out of a nightmare as they continued climbing to higher, but above all colder regions, the group finally arrived at their destination.

Landing in a small, poorly-kept park somewhere in a suburb of London, the young witch was shown a piece of paper with an address written on it in someone's slanted handwriting. To her surprise she was then ushered into the dark and foreboding building that had squeezed itself into its formerly non-existent place.

Cordelia took a deep breath to calm the nerves, which fluttered in the pit of her stomach, tightening her grip on her broom until her knuckles were completely white. 'Well, here goes nothing', she thought, before following the calming presence of Kingsley Shacklebolt, through the opened, dilapidated, green door and into the foreboding darkness which lay inside.

 **-x-**

 **Author Note:** Let me know what you think about the little history lesson about the Roman conquest. I always found it a waste that Rowling made the History of Magic classes a joke. It would have been interesting to read about…


End file.
